Hide-and-Sheikh

by Gail Dayton

  Carrying coffee and sandwich, she walked to the cockpit, staggering only once in slight turbulence. Rudi glanced up and smiled when she entered.

  "So you decided to come see the cockpit." He gestured at the chair to his right. "Have a seat. Take a look around."

  Ellen slid carefully into the seat. She didn't want to touch anything she shouldn't. Her seat had a steering mechanism in front of it that appeared to be locked down. Good. She looked out the window and was mesmerized.

  Trees blanketed the rippling ground below them, interspersed with squares and rectangles of bright green or mellow gold, depending, Ellen supposed, on the crops growing there. Blue river ribbons curled through the patchwork, while black roads slashed arrow straight, dotted with fast-moving traffic. And around her—above, below, left, right, before, behind—the sky opened its vast vistas.

  She could see clear to tomorrow and back to yesterday. Clouds kept them company like fat, contented sheep. But ahead, a dark line on the horizon shadowed her pleasure in the scene, told her the clouds weren't always contented.

  "Is that the storm?" She tipped her head toward it.

  "Yes. We will turn south in a few minutes and fly around it." He looked at her. "I do not fly through thunderstorms just to prove how manly I am."

  Ellen laughed. "No. You just ride through Central Park on a borrowed horse and snatch women off their feet."

  "For fun." A tiny smile tickled the corners of Rudi's lips. "Admit it. It was fun, was it not?"

  She shook her head. She might admit it to herself, but never, ever to him. "You're absolutely outrageous."

  "I know." He winked. "And you love it."

  Rather than dignify his nonsense with a response, Ellen ate her sandwich.

  Before long, they were flying with the dark line of clouds off their right wing, but the storm grew faster than the little jet could fly. The clouds seemed to boil, racing and churning as the pewter-gray froth climbed higher and higher, blotting out the sun. These were angry clouds, throwing lightning back and forth like insults, reaching out to drag Ellen and Rudi into their quarrel.

  "Buckle up." Rudi pointed at the shoulder harness attached to Ellen's seat. He already had his fastened, she noticed as she pulled the straps around her and clicked them into place.

  "We will get caught in the edges of this storm," he said. "The front is bigger and badder than it looked in the forecast, but we should miss the worst of it."

  "Can't we fly above it, or something?" Her hands shook, and she locked them together in her lap. Ellen couldn't believe her nerves were so shot. She'd never had a problem with flying in her life. But then, she'd never been in a plane this small in the middle of a storm that big with her safety in someone else's hands. Her cousin the shrink said she had control issues.

  "It is too high. A commercial jetliner would have trouble getting above this one." Rudi shot her a quick smile. "Relax. I have never crashed one yet."

  "That's the word that bothers me," she muttered.

  "What word?"

  "Yet."

  Rudi laughed, a big, full-throated sound of pure enjoyment. Then the plane plunged, caught by a sudden downdraft.

  Ellen yelped, and Rudi stopped laughing as he wrestled for altitude. The aircraft bucked and jolted like something alive trying to escape a predator's jaws. Ellen squeezed her eyes shut and hung on to the chair's armrests for dear life. She wasn't afraid. But if the plane was going to crash, she didn't want to see it.

  Time passed. The jet would level out and climb for a few minutes, then the wind would lash out again with another stomach-floating drop, or a sideways blow, and the struggle would start over. Rudi fought the storm with a fierce light in his eyes that must have been in his ancestors' when they fought the invading Crusaders. Ellen watched him, fascinated.

  Except when the downdrafts struck. She couldn't keep her eyes open when the wind pushed the plane toward the ground.

  Rain and sleet sporadically battered the little jet. For minutes at a time they would break into the clear, only to have the storm reach out and snare them again. It exhausted Ellen, and she was merely a passenger. She didn't want to think how tired Rudi must be.

  Finally, finally the clouds thinned, then dissipated, and nothing shone ahead of them but blue sky.

  Rudi took a deep breath and got on the radio. Ellen's ear had been well tuned to pick up the hissing, staticky tones of speech over the airwaves, but pilot talk was full of jargon she didn't know. She understood the English words, the ones like heading and southwest. The rest of it was beyond her.

  "Clear skies ahead," Rudi said when he hung up the microphone. "All the way to California, if we like, according to the weather wizards."

  "I guess they'd know." She gave him a lowering look. "We are not going to California." It was not a question. Nor was it an option.

  Rudi grinned. "No, we are not going to California."

  "So where are we going?"

  "Not California."

  Ellen ground her teeth, then made herself stop. Her doctor blamed the habit for her headaches. "Stop being coy. It doesn't suit you. Where are we going?"

  "You will know when we get there. Let it be a surprise. And I am never coy."

  "I hate surprises. I'm responsible for your safety. What if these terrorists are waiting for you on the other end of this flight?"

  "They are not."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because even if they knew where we are going, which they do not, they have had insufficient time to get there. And even if they are there, which they are not, they will stand out like a goat in the parlor. You would spot them in five seconds or less."

  Ellen scowled at him. "Why won't you tell me where we're going? And you're about as coy as it's possible for a man to be."

  "Not coy. Clever." Rudi winked.

  "Rudi—" She put a threat in her voice. It didn't work.

  "Yes, Ellen?" His smile was inoffensive.

  "You're ticking me off. So if you're not telling me because you don't want to make me mad, it's too late. I'm already there. Where are we going?" She punctuated the words with silence. She locked her hands around the armrests to remind herself that, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't strangle him.

  "Our destination is a surprise."

  That again. "I really hate surprises. They always jump up and bite you in the ass." Ellen glowered out the windshield.

  "Some surprises are nice. This one is."

  She didn't believe a word of it.

  "And if I cannot be coy, you cannot be sullen," he added.

  "I'm not sullen." Her glare should have singed his ears, if there was any justice in the world.

  "Right." Rudi's smug smile shoved her irritation higher.

  Ellen needed to get away, out of the same room with him, lest she lose her marginal grip on her self-control and do something best left unthought of. He was flying the plane, after all.

  She fought her way out of the seat belt. "I'm going to the little girls' room," she said. Before I smack you.

  "All the way aft." Rudi glanced up at her, and for a minute Ellen thought he would say something smart-ass, something that would drive her right off the deep end.

  He didn't. "Why do you not take two of the chairs in the cabin and stretch out? You look as if you fought the storm to a standstill single-handedly. You should get some rest."

  She didn't know whether to feel insulted because he implied she looked awful or comforted because he showed concern for her well-being. Either one wasn't what she'd expected from a rich, irresponsible, playboy younger son. But then Rudi had been confounding her expectations from the minute she'd met him.

  "Aren't you tired?" she asked.

  "I am flying." He grinned. "Besides, it is harder to be a passenger than a pilot coming through a storm. When you are doing the flying, you are taking action. You are in control. Not wincing and ducking and closing your eyes. Not that you did any of those things, of course."

  Ellen stood up and stepped
out the cockpit door to escape the blasted man, then turned back. "I closed my eyes," she said. She believed in owning up to the truth. "And I really, really hate surprises."

  When Ellen did not come back to the cockpit, Rudi put the plane on autopilot just long enough to check on her. He found her asleep in the cabin. She sat tipped against the wall in a corner, rather than stretched out as Rudi had suggested. Probably because he had suggested it.

  Or maybe she had told herself she would just sit and look out the window a minute, never intending to fall asleep. That would be like her, from the little Rudi knew of her thus far. She refused to be pushed, didn't like to be led and fought to keep control of everything around her, holding it clutched tight in those long, elegant fingers. But sometimes, apparently, her body overruled her.

  Rudi indulged himself with one more look at those slender, forever legs before stepping back into the cockpit. Sleep was good, he thought as he buckled himself back in and flipped the switch to manual. She needed it. Besides that, if she slept long enough, she would not give him trouble over their destination.

  At least, not until they landed. Rudi was a great believer in putting off trouble as long as possible.

  The storm had delayed them. Enough to make Rudi push the plane a little harder than he liked. If he did not reach the landing strip before dark, they would have to go miles out of the way to a lighted airport. Fortunately it was summer, and the sun stayed above the horizon well into the evening hours. Crossing two time zones helped, also.

  The sun was low on the horizon when he spotted the notched bluff just past the rusty smear of river bottom. He aimed for the notch and five minutes later he was over the runway, the wind sock indicating a strong south wind, as usual. Grateful he did not have to land facing the sun's dying glare, Rudi circled the field and put the jet on the asphalt strip with only two or three hard bounces. Not the best runway in the world, especially when the cows strayed across it.

  Before he could taxi down the runway to the hangar, Ellen burst into the cockpit.

  "Where's the exit?" She knelt to unbuckle his seat harness. "Stop messing around trying to fix things and get out of there."

  "What are you doing, woman?"

  Distracted by her hands playing in his lap, Rudi drifted slightly off course and ran over something left too near the runway, causing the jet to bump slightly. Ellen clutched at him, one arm locking around his thigh to keep from losing her balance. Rudi would have smacked the plane into the side of the hangar if he had not managed to hit the brakes hard enough to stop it.

  "Ellen." He pushed her gently to the other chair. "Wait until the plane stops before you start grabbing the pilot's legs. Let me get the plane in the hangar, and then you may play with my legs all you want, all right?"

  She peered out the windscreen, her slender neck swiveling as she checked out her surroundings. Her nostrils flared, subtly surveying the air, perhaps for the scent of smoke. Then her eyes narrowed into anger, and she sank into the copilot's chair.

  "The way you landed this thing, throwing me clean out of my seat, how was I supposed to know we didn't crash?" Ellen looked out the window on her side, toward the pink-and-orange sky where the sun had just vanished beyond the distant horizon, then aimed her glare at Rudi again. "It's sunset. You said we'd be back in the city tonight."

  He brought the plane to a halt inside the open hangar. "I never said that." He had been very careful not to.

  "Okay, you let me assume it."

  Before he could inform her that her assumptions were not his responsibility, she had moved on.

  "Just where are we, anyway?"

  "My place." Rudi shut everything down, then ran the checklist to be sure. "I could not carry you away to the Casbah, but I think this is better."

  "You said it was a business meeting." Her eyes flashed fire at him. He'd always thought it a cliché, but she truly was beautiful when she was angry.

  "It is. In town, in the morning." He stood and edged between the seats, partially through the door, then offered Ellen his hand. "Coming?"

  Rudi held his breath as she looked from his face to his hand and back again, waiting for her to decide. She would come—he had maneuvered her pretty neatly into that. She had to stick with him, at least for now. But would she take his hand? Rudi did not think so. Still, he had to take the chance and offer it.

  When her slim, cool fingers slid across his palm and her hand closed around his, the touch jolted him. It sent his persistent awareness of her presence sizzling into raging desire. Every molecule in his body wanted her. Not just for sex, though he could not deny he wanted that, wanted it so much he had to choke off a groan. But he wanted more.

  He wanted to see admiration in her eyes. He wanted to hear her laugh. He wanted to argue with her and make up afterward. He wanted to wake up with her in the morning after a night of hot, mindless, slow, sultry sex, and have her smile at him simply because she liked him.

  And Rudi knew, somewhere down deep in his gut, that if he rushed the sex, he would never get the smile. It might kill him, but he intended to take his sweet time with this woman.

  "Well?" Ellen's voice broke into his musing, and he realized he still stood like a fool in the cockpit doorway holding her hand. "Are we going to get off this airplane any time in this millennium?"

  Rudi grinned. He loved her sass. "Come along. Meet the natives."

  Four

  Ellen let Rudi open the jet's door, but she was the first one through it, her hand on the gun in her purse as she descended the narrow ladderway. The hangar, a primitive construct of corrugated tin, was empty.

  She walked to the open entrance and looked out into the blue twilight. Open land stretched out ahead of her, broken only by a flat-topped hill in the far distance. Short, scrubby bushes covered the land, almost silver in the dusky light. The black-topped runway became a dirt road about a mile distant, and looped around to the west, toward high rocky mountains.

  Foothills, Ellen corrected herself, seeing the sunset-gilded peaks of higher mountains in the distance beyond. She'd never in all her life seen so much…nothing. Or so few people. Like none, besides herself and Rudi. She would definitely be able to spot a terrorist in this vast wasteland. They'd be the only other people out here.

  "Where in the world have you brought me?" she muttered.

  "As I said—" Rudi spoke at her elbow "—this is my place."

  She looked around at the empty, echoing hangar. "Nice house."

  Rudi chuckled. "The house is at the base of that rise." He pointed at one of the hills to the west.

  "I'm not exactly dressed for a cross-country hike."

  "Do not worry. Our ride is coming."

  Just then, Ellen heard the growl of a motor. Headlights pierced the gloom as a pickup truck shouldered up out of a fold in the land she hadn't seen, and rumbled its way onto the runway and up to the hangar. Her grip tightened on the automatic pistol still hidden in her purse, and she stepped in front of Rudi. He might know who the pickup belonged to, but she didn't.

  The lanky, grizzled cowboy who unfolded himself from the truck certainly didn't look like a Muslim terrorist, however. Rudi's wide smile as he stepped past her reassured her more.

  "Bill." Rudi embraced the man and kissed him on both cheeks.

  Bill was still wiping off his cheeks when Rudi drew Ellen forward. "This is Ellen Sheffield. She'll be staying with us for a few days."

  "Pleased to meet you, Miss Sheffield." Bill shook her hand with great ceremony, his hand as dry and callused as old leather. "Welcome to New Mexico."

  "I—" She had to pause a moment to digest the knowledge that she was in New Mexico. Rudi would pay for this. He most definitely would pay. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr…" She paused again, waiting for his response to her prompt.

  "Just call me Bill. Everybody else does." Bill reclaimed his hand and turned away.

  "I'd be happy to. But I'd still like to know your last name."

  Ellen could feel Rudi's silent laught
er beside her as Bill turned back, eyebrows climbing his laddered forehead.

  "Dadgum, boy," he said in a slow-as-five-o'clock-traffic drawl, "if you were gonna wait so long before bringin' a woman home, don't you think you coulda found one who wasn't so snippy?"

  "I'm a bodyguard," Ellen said. "The fact that I'm female is immaterial. And I still don't know your last name."

  "It's Chandler." Bill gave her a long, slow, head-to-toe once-over. Ellen endured it, as she had all the others in her life. "And you look pretty durn material to me."

  He looked at Rudi. "You bring your usual luggage?"

  "Yes." Rudi gently tugged Ellen's hand out of her purse and escorted her to the pickup truck. "Has everything gone well here?"

  "Right as rain, except we haven't had any. Rain." Bill got in the driver's side and waited.

  Ellen eyed the open passenger door of the pickup in dismay. She'd never been in a truck before, and now she knew why. They were not made to get into while wearing a dress. Particularly not a short, snug dress like the lime-green sheath she presently had on.

  "Do you need assistance?" Rudi murmured in her ear.

  "No, I—um—" Ellen lifted her foot, but the seams of her skirt popped alarmingly before she could get it high enough to set on the step.

  Before she could try something else, Rudi grasped her around the waist and lifted her in, then climbed in after her.

  "Thanks, son." Bill started the engine. "I figured we'd be pussyfootin' out here till sunup waiting for Miss Bodyguard to figure out how to get in a truck."

  Ellen ignored the old Neanderthal. She'd known a thousand men just like him. He wasn't worth the waste of her time to try to prove him wrong.

  "How is the beautiful Annabelle?" Rudi asked.

  "Anxious to see you again, but she'll keep till tomorrow. She left you some supper." Bill paused while he drove the truck into a gully and out again. "I reckon there'll be enough for the both of you, even if she was only expecting one."

  Annabelle? Ellen refused to give Rudi the satisfaction of looking at him. She refused to play his game. If he kept a woman in his New Mexico hideaway, that was his business. She was just the bodyguard.