“I’m not brave,” she said, thankful he couldn’t see her face or read her expression. She didn’t feel like an adventurer. More like a bumbling fool with a scarlet P branded on her forehead for ‘Danger! Pregnant lady coming through.’
“Then how is it you’re the one who found food and fire for the rest of us, huh?” He was teasing. She could hear it in his voice.
“I’m only trying to help. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
He squeezed her ever so slightly, his breath in the crook of her neck. “You, Shannon Reagan, are no burden. Trust me. I’d know.”
She relaxed, enjoying the calm reprieve. The warmth of his body heat wasn’t so bad, either. Spooning might be an odd way to spend the night, but she was glad to be there.
“I need to apologize,” he murmured. “I was kinda hard on you a couple days ago.”
“No. It’s okay. You were fine.”
“I was an ass,” he muttered. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you in South Dakota, either.”
“No,” he sighed. “Sure didn’t.”
They lay in silence watching the flickering fire, and she wondered how she had come to this point, wrapped in the bear-like arms of a kind man on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific. He didn’t deserve to have the truth withheld from him, either. No. Adam wasn’t Brit. He was a good man. Shannon knew it to her soul.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to be the adventurer he thought she was, and tell him about her baby. Now. Before he made assumptions she couldn’t deliver on. “Adam?”
“Huh?” he responded dreamily.
“There’s something you should know.” She wanted to turn and face him, but his arms were connected to his ribs. She figured she’d already hurt him enough. “I’m pregnant,” she said softly over her shoulder.
“Hmmm,” he breathed. “That’s... nice...”
A gentle snore growled against her neck. Didn’t it figure?
Adam was sound asleep.
Sea breeze and Shannon. No better fragrance in the world.
Adam opened his eyes to the soft caress of a woman’s breath on his chest. Sometime during the night, Shannon had turned into him. She lay sound asleep, her left hand cupping his neck and her head tucked under his chin. It didn’t escape him that his left arm was wrapped beneath her, cradling her gently and more than a little possessively. His other palm rested easily on her ribcage, as if it belonged there. The feel of her slender body pressed against his set his heart to pumping. It seemed so natural, as if they’d lain like this a thousand times before. He wished.
Ah, yes. It rained during the night. That was when she’d snuggled into him, and even though it’d hurt, he’d welcomed the warmth of her lush body. The rain hadn’t lasted, but Shannon had.
A twitter overhead drew his attention skyward. Palm fronds, birds and blue sky welcomed another day. Soon she would wake, and she might be embarrassed at their intimate hold on each other. He hoped she wouldn’t, but just in case, he played it safe. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander to the loveliness of the soft woman in his arms. Her breath. Her uniquely feminine scent. The way her petite frame molded perfectly into his. With her ankle rested between his legs and her knee between his knees, he wished they were tangled beneath sheets instead of across the sandy way from the Mahers.
The day promised more work and maybe more troubles, but for this one single moment, the island did feel like paradise.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Adam looked to the black sheet bobbing in the surf at Connor’s question.
Morning came bright and early on a deserted island with the glare of tropical sun off the miles and miles of reflective water. They’d already collected the copilot, whose nametag identified him as the late Frederick Stankowski. Pilot Irwin Bell laid beside him on the shore, both men now face up and their arms crossed over their chests. They’d cut the ends off some empty soda cans bobbing in the surf and used those pitiful implements to carve three graves into the far end of the sandy beach.
Adam and Connor were about to retrieve poor Dillon Lorenzo from the jungle, but Adam’s ribs were on fire from the steady activity. He wanted this ugly business of recovery and burial over. A long nap wouldn’t hurt, either.
“Crap. It looks like…” Connor splashed into the waves and grabbed the black canopy out of the water for inspection, “…another parachute? Didn’t we already recover two from the cockpit?”
Adam nodded. They’d tossed plenty of debris ashore as they’d combed the crash site for a body, or at least, body parts. He still prayed to find Donavan alive. So far, no such luck. But yes. Both cabin parachutes lay on the beach, still in their bags.
Connor dragged the soggy thing to shore, its suspension lines snarled with the nylon canopy. Sleep seemed to have helped him, but his good humor wouldn’t last. Adam had seen the cracks. Like now. Connor seemed pleased with his find instead of suspicious like a covert operator ought to be.
But Adam was damned suspicious. His internal warning system flashed to life when he’d first caught sight of the parachute. It could’ve been an extra that had come unraveled in the chaos, but still. He’d checked when he’d boarded the Gulfstream before he’d taken his seat. That was what HALO jumpers did. They checked in before they strapped in, and he’d found vests and flotation devices, yes. No parachutes. This one was different than the other two. Solid black, not red and white. And it had been deployed.
Connor held his hand out. “Give me that knife, so I can cut three funeral shrouds. We’ll save the other parachutes. Who knows? They might come in handy.”
Adam bit back any comment, not up to arguing. Connor was right. Concealing the corpses was a good idea. Shannon and Izza didn’t need to see that, but this third find spelled trouble. He glanced over his shoulder and back at camp. Where was that ‘roid freak, Ramsey?
Connor cut through the tangled lines and sliced three portions the size of bed sheets, then rolled the remaining nylon into a ball and tossed it onto dry sand. “Come on. I’m tired. Let’s do this.”
Adam blew out a slow breath through pursed lips. “I’m with you.”
He followed Connor, fighting his weakened physical condition. It had been a long time since he’d hurt this bad. He meant to get the bodies wrapped as quickly as he could, but the sunny day couldn’t quell the prickly sensation that someone was out there. Watching.
The pilot had done a decent job bringing the jet down, although it had lost both wings, probably sheared off when they hit. How the copilot ended up beneath the one wing was a mystery, but in all honesty, they couldn’t have asked for a better crash landing—the fuselage dug into the sandy beach of their own private island paradise. What were the chances?
Couple that with what obviously were three explosions—one inside the cockpit, one that eliminated the jet portside engine, and another aft. From the cargo door back there was nothing. The tail was completely gone. Adam weighed possibilities and scenarios that this could’ve been just an accident. Just engine failure. Bullshit. He’d seen enough Black Hawks and Osprey brought down by enemy fire to know the difference. This was sabotage. Maybe espionage, too. Maybe worse.
Connor interrupted his silent analysis. He’d halted in mid-stride, the nylon sheets in one hand, the knife in the other. “This mess is all your Miss Reagan’s fault.”
“What?” Adam took a step back, not sure what had just happened.
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure I heard you right. Why would Shannon be behind the crash?”
“She’s the only reason we were in that jet in the first place.”
“So?”
“So think about it.” Connor faced him now, his usually calm blue eyes as hard as ice and the knife pointed at Adam. “Would Paul Reagan and his men have gotten access to an Air Force bird the way they did this one? And the only reason we flew Reagan One is because
at the last moment, she decides she’s coming with us.”
“Give me a break.” Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The only reason Alex agreed to Reagan’s demands is because she stepped up and did his dirty work for him.”
“Bullshit!”
“Are you saying Shannon is responsible for the crash?”
“You bet I am. Miss Reagan comes to mind in a hurry.”
“Knock it off, Connor. What would she have gained? She could’ve died just like the rest of us.”
“But she didn’t, did she?” Connor took a step backward and handed the blade handle first to Adam. “How can you not see what I’m saying? It as clear as mud.”
Relieved, Adam took the knife from Connor, but clear as mud? He looked closer at his friend.
“Don’t give me that look,” Connor muttered. “Think about it with your big head for once, not the little one in your pants.”
Adam bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I saw you last night. You’re getting too close to Missy Reagan, Torrey. Every time I look at the two of you, she’s in your arms or climbing all over you. You need to cool your jets. Back off.”
That was another thing. Connor never called his fellow teammates by their last names. And that Missy Reagan jab? Name-calling was unlike easy-going Connor, too. Adam forced a calming breath. Here we go again. “Are you okay, man?”
“Just think about it, would you?” Connor pointed to the wreck bobbing in the surf, a hint of hysteria creeping into his tone. “And stop defending her. She’s behind this. You know it as well as I do.”
Adam didn’t argue. The more Connor talked, the more Adam was certain the man needed some serious medical help. Connor was right about a couple things. They’d flown Reagan Air because of Shannon. To make the point for his twisted thought process, she’d stepped to the back of the plane just prior to the rear explosion. That didn’t explain the port engine flaming out like it had, or the cockpit damage. It didn’t really explain anything at all except that she was onboard, she’d used the restroom, and she’d spoken with Dillon Lorenzo before the trouble started.
“Not Shannon,” he muttered again. They were halfway back to retrieve poor Dillon by then. “She only came with us to prove a point.”
“No kidding!” Connor blew up, stopping in his tracks. “And she made it, didn’t she? She’s nothing but a spoiled rich diva who thinks she can snap her fingers, and the world bows at her feet. Her father sure did!”
“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” This whole conversation had gotten tiresome. “The only reason she came with us is because Alex didn’t trust her old man. You weren’t there, so you wouldn’t know, but that’s how it went down.”
“And he trusts her now because she wants a tropical vacation? Alex fell for that?” The more Connor talked, the more spun up he became, and the crazier he sounded.
“No. He trusts her because he believed her, and...” Adam bit his lip as he deliberated for a split second. He didn’t want to bait Connor, but loyalty was a weakness of his. Right then, he had an enormous loyalty for a certain woman at camp who didn’t know he was talking about her behind her back. “I believe her. She’s nothing like Paul Reagan. Give her a chance. For hells sake, she’s done nothing but try to be useful.”
“Yeah, right.” Connor rolled his eyes.
“Knock it off. If I were you, I’d be worried about where Ramsey is. He’s the dangerous one, not Shannon.”
“Why should I worry about a dead man?”
“Because I’m not sure he’s dead, are you?”
Connor parted the thick fronds concealing the flight attendant’s body. “You know what? I don’t care. Let’s get these guys in the ground so we can talk in private. We need a strategy, and I don’t want her around when we—holy crap!”
“What?” Adam peered around him into the thick foliage.
Poor Dillon still sat slumped forward in his harness, his back against the palm tree, but now, an ominous message had been carved in deep, jagged lines across his forehead. 1 X 1. Black drips of blood etched his cheeks. Both eye sockets were empty. Only gaping bloody holes stared back.
Adam spat to the side. Shit. It had been awhile since he’d seen mutilation like this, and then it had been in a third-world country where barbaric enemies fought with brutal measures. Whoever’d carved on this poor kid meant it as a scare tactic. They were damned cruel, especially if they—or he—meant Shannon to find it.
“Someone just did this.” Connor took one step forward, peering closer. “The blood’s not dried yet.”
There were three sets of footprints in the sand, still damp from the overnight rain, and two of them were theirs. It had to be Ramsey.
Adam’s heart stopped. The women! Broken ribs or not, he couldn’t run back to camp fast enough, Connor close on his heels.
Izza looked up in surprise. “You guys look like you’ve just seen—what’s going on?”
Connor went to her side of the fire, and Adam went to Shannon on the other. He crushed her into his chest, panting in a full-blown panic he hadn’t felt in a long time. His chest burned with the exertion he’d just put himself through, but the thought of Ramsey hurting her hurt worse.
He fisted her long hair in his hands and smothered her under his chin, scanning the brush and nearby jungle for that bastard, Ramsey. Damn it! The knowledge that she’d gone blithely by herself into the jungle scattered his wits again. She’d purposefully followed that error in judgment by swimming out to the wreck to retrieve a spark of fire from the cockpit, again all by herself. She wasn’t brave; she was foolish.
Adam couldn’t hold her trembling body tight enough or long enough. It could’ve been her forehead that Ramsey had just carved a warning into. Her pretty face he’d defiled. Her blue eyes he’d gouged out. This woman put herself at risk without any thought to her own safety. What the hell was wrong with her?
She didn’t resist his embrace, not like it wouldn’t have mattered if she did. Right then, he needed to know she was present and accounted for. All of her, damn it.
“Connor?” Izza asked, balancing on her one good leg even as he held her tight. “You guys are scaring me. What’s wrong?”
He glared over his wife’s dark hair at Shannon. “Who’d you meet up with yesterday in the jungle, Miss Reagan? You didn’t just go looking for bananas, did you?”
“Knock it off.” Adam turned his back to shield her from Connor’s steely gaze. “You know damned well she wasn’t meeting anyone out there.”
“What’s he talking about?” Shannon asked. “I just went to find—”
“Yeah. Bananas. Right.” Connor snapped. “And then you went out to the wreckage all by yourself, didn’t you? Why’d you really go alone? Were you meeting someone there, too?”
Adam didn’t give her a chance to respond. “You saw her in the jungle. Did she look like she was having a covert meeting with that spider, screaming like she was?”
Connor didn’t blink. “I didn’t see no spider and right now, I’m not sure what I did see. All I know is that every time we turn our backs, she takes off to places unknown. Why don’t you tell us everything you know about your man, Ramsey?”
Shannon peered around Adam to confront Connor. “My man? But he’s—”
Her heart pounded as hard as his. All these wild accusations weren’t helping. With her broken arm against him, the splint dug into his tender ribs. He didn’t care. Connor needed to shut the hell up, and they all needed to come up with protective measures.
“He’s worked for my father for a long time. Before that, I think he was in the Army, and, umm...” She leaned back and glanced up at Adam. “He used to be some kind of a special ops guy. Why? What’s the matter?”
Adam shot a look to Connor, calculating how much he should share with the ladies, but Connor took that for a license to tell all.
“Because some bastard just carved a message into one of your father’s employees.” He spat the words
out. “If it wasn’t you, it was someone who works for you. It was Ramsey, wasn’t it? He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Connor. Stop it,” Izza muttered, her palm to his chest. “Shannon wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, someone sure did!”
Connor had never sounded so unlike himself. Usually the most laidback operator and the biggest tease on the team next to Harley, he’d changed into a mean, paranoid man, his eyes as sharp as daggers. All the signs were there. Hyper-vigilance. Paranoia. Connor was suffering from post-traumatic stress. Big time. And he was taking it out on Shannon.
“W-w-what...?” She shook so hard she could barely speak. She tried again. “W-what did it s-say?”
“You know what it said. Don’t play your lying game with me. One by one. He’s coming for us, Missy Reagan.” Connor mimicked Ramsey’s condescending greeting for Shannon yet again. “One by one. Did he come up with that clever line all by himself, or is that what you told him to carve?”
Adam took a firm step around Shannon, his fists clenched, and tired of Connor’s unwarranted attack.
“Shit, Connor,” Izza cursed again, but Shannon’s knees buckled. Adam went to ground with her.
“He... I...” She huffed, her head down. “He always says that. It’s like his motto or something. When I divorced Brit...” Adam still had hold of her, his arms and legs wrapped around her in an awkward embrace. “He said... he said he’d keep everyone away from me... one by one... if that’s what it took. He used those same words, Adam. He did this.”
Ramsey was a total nut job, but his thinking he was in love with Shannon might explain his bizarre message. Still, why carve on Dillon? Out of revenge? Ramsey had no idea she’d spoken with the flight attendant. He was either in the hold by then and geared up for a parachute jump or… what? Setting the timer on the bombs he’d placed in the cabin? Blowing the aft hatch and stealing the drones after take off? Then why the hell was his knife on the island? The more Adam analyzed what he thought he knew, the more questions he had.
“Was that jerk infatuated with you? Did he stalk you?” Adam had to know.
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