Hell, this was turning into one heck of a day.
* * * *
Laughter? What kind of idiot is he? Danielle gripped the man's arms. Screams and frantic prayers competed with engine noises, while the plane continued to lurch from side to side. It levelled again. Her head slammed into his chest and strong fingers clasped the back of her neck, holding her steady. He stopped laughing, abruptly as if suddenly aware of the effect it was having on her.
His solid warmth was a lifeline to which she clung with everything she had. Grabbing a handful of his tee-shirt, she pressed her face against the damp cloth and breathed in the mixture of smoke and sweat. The hammering of his heart told her he wasn't nearly as calm as he appeared. She lifted her head, desperate for him to say he would save her from this, already knowing he couldn't.
"What's your name?"
She stared at him, noticing for the first time that he needed a shave.
"Your name, sweetheart. What is it?"
Her mouth opened twice before any sound came out. "Danielle. Danielle Radley."
"I'm Taylor. Now be a good girl and get back in your seat. And do your seat belt up." He spoke slowly and deliberately. "Can you do that for me, Danielle?"
"I. I can't." Her grip tightened. "Don't let go of me."
His expression softened, and for a brief moment his eyes showed the pain she'd seen earlier. "You've got to, Danielle. Come on, you're stronger than this. Go now, we may not have much time."
"What do you mean?" Danielle tightened the grip on his tee-shirt, pulling herself so close she smelled the whisky on his breath. Then she was being pushed away to land hard against her seat. Falling into it, she fumbled with the belt. Glanced back at him. Saw his approving smile.
He has a nice smile. Should smile more often.
His companion yelled again. The plane continued to lurch and bank. No sign of his double. The attendant was on her knees in the aisle, grimly trying to pull herself into a seat. One moment the blue of the sky filled the window, the next the green of the tropical rainforest below growing larger and larger with every passing second.
Was the pilot trying to land in the forest? They were almost down now, the force of the descent jamming her into the seat, the tops of the trees clearly visible.
A loud bang shook the plane and Danielle covered her ears to shut out the sound of everyone screaming at once. For a split second the plane hovered silently in mid-air.
Then the nose tipped and it dropped.
"Get your head down, Danielle." Taylor bent forward, an arm above his head.
She copied him, arms bracing her head, with no idea if she was doing it right. She, who had memorised every safety procedure, every position, suddenly couldn't remember any of it. Her stomach seemed to be flying out of her mouth. Wasn't her life supposed to flash before her eyes? Her mom, her dad– she tried to picture them but they wouldn't come. There was only Taylor and the way he'd held on to her, even though she'd hurt him with her long nails. Instead of closing her eyes she turned her head, looked over at him and found him still watching her. When he nodded, she reached out her hand and his strong grip clasping her wrist was the last thing she was aware of as the plane hit the thick forest below.
Chapter 3
Taylor opened his eyes, biting back the sharp pain that ripped through his left arm. He righted himself slowly, wondering how bad his injuries were. Amazed to still be alive. A man with a death wish had survived a plane crash. Was someone up there trying to tell him something? He flexed his right arm, moved his legs and took a couple of deep breaths. Everything else seemed normal. His left arm was broken, judging by the pain, and his head hurt. But if that was all then he'd got off lightly.
Danielle. He almost had to force himself to look at her seat. The last thing he remembered were two enormous eyes, silently pleading with him to do something, and the strength of her grip on his hand.
She was still in her seat, head to the side, not moving. The lights were all out and the trees that had cushioned the impact surrounded the plane, telling him they'd come down somewhere in the rainforest. Some of the branches reached in through the shattered windows, and for a moment Taylor kept very still and listened for sounds of movement. A plane caught high up in the canopy might drop at any time. He couldn't be sure, but it felt stable and he had to trust that the creaks and groans punctuating the silence were just branches rubbing against metal.
She's not breathing. Taylor reached across and took Danielle's wrist, feeling for a pulse. For an agonising moment he felt nothing. Stretching across made his broken arm hurt like hell, but he needed to know. She couldn't be dead. He tried again, finding it hard to concentrate against the roaring pain in his head. At first he'd been numb, but now every part of his body throbbed, protesting against being dropped out of the sky.
Twisting back into his seat, he reached into the inside pocket of the dead policeman's suit and felt around for a key to the handcuffs.
Taylor spared the dead man no sympathy, as he'd been given none. The man still had a surprised expression frozen on his face at the moment the jagged piece of window glass had ripped through his neck.
A cell phone but no keys. Taylor willed himself calm. Which of the policemen had pocketed them? A quick glance at the twisted and shattered front of the plane told him the other man wasn't coming back.
No signal. He dropped the phone onto the seat, breathing through the pain.
Christ, have I survived this only to die of hunger and thirst next to a corpse?
Yes, there they were. He found the set of keys after what seemed an eternity and, with a shaking hand, twisted one in the lock and pulled the handcuffs apart, easing away the metal which had bitten into his skin. After a couple of steadying breaths, he carefully lifted his arm, inhaling sharply at the pain slicing through him. The arm needed immobilising, if he could find a first aid kit. First, though, the grim task of checking on the other passengers.
Another look at the crushed tangle of metal that was once the front part of the plane left him in no doubt about their fate. How could anyone have survived that? Then there was Danielle. Taylor twisted out of his seat and placed a trembling hand on her chest.
Movement. Thank God. Slowly but surely, her chest rose up and down. He leaned in and listened. When her warm breath fanned his face, his legs gave way with the sheer relief and shock of it all. He fell to his knees beside her, still not knowing if she was badly hurt. Only that she was alive, and that somehow it was important to him. The sounds of the rainforest started up quietly in the background; insects and birds, startled into silence by the crash, resuming their business while he stared at her wondering why he cared.
Not a religious man, but he had done some praying in the past two years. Prayed for his life back, all too soon realising that no-one was listening and no-one cared. And now this. Connection with another human being. Something he'd despaired of ever feeling again.
Probably the shock and the adrenaline pumping through his system. He'd been in enough hairy situations to know what that could do to you, how it made you feel. Good sex, getting drunk, tearing up the town. All great ways to burn it off. None of those an option now, though.
He reached for Danielle's wrist again, feeling the pulse strong and steady, and held on, resting his head on the arm of her seat. Just a woman and he'd known plenty of them. Why did she feel so special?
The fact that they were alone together in a life-threatening situation? He laughed softly to himself. Yes, that was enough to make her special. The next few days would throw them together; make them dependent on each other. The plane had some sort of homing beacon, but if they'd come down in the thickest part of the forest it might be days before they were found.
As he studied Danielle, Taylor realised that her being alive was a double- edged sword. If she'd died, he'd have been out of there. With his survival skills, the jungle posed no threat to him. One more attempt at disappearing, only this time do it properly. He couldn't leave her, though, or take
her with him.
Taylor glanced again the front of the plane. There may be someone in there, badly injured - he should go and check now, but his shaky legs wouldn't let him. Twisting them under him, he sat down in the narrow aisle, let his head drop between his knees, and felt his blood pressure falling.
Hell, not the time to pass out. If he had a bad concussion he could be in trouble.
Breathing desperately, he flopped against the seat behind him and tried to fend off the nausea. In front of him Danielle stirred. He called out to her in a voice that sounded thick and distant. His vision turned misty and he was only dimly aware of Danielle, on her knees now, repeating his name over and over, her fingers frantically searching his face.
Grabbing her hand, he tried to stay with her, but his body had other ideas and he slipped away. It's okay. She's alive. Now sure of that, he could stop fighting so he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
* * * *
"Taylor." Danielle unsnapped her seat belt and slithered to the floor, heart lurching at the bloody sight of his companion sprawled across the opposite seat. Blood everywhere, trickling down the man's arm to splash onto the floor. Staining his white shirt. She shut out the image and returned her attention to Taylor. He could be dying, right in front of her. No, he couldn't die. If everyone died, she'd be all alone.
Poor Taylor, with his sad eyes. He shouldn't die, here, like this. It didn't seem fair. If he hadn't thrown her back into her seat, she'd have been in the aisle when the plane went down. He saved her life. That must count for something with the powers-that-be.
She watched his ashen face anxiously and, when he started to move, breathed such a sigh of relief it made her tremble right down to her toes. He's alive. I won't be alone, she thought murmuring a grateful prayer of thanks. Sitting with him in the cramped aisle, she grasped his hand, stroking it gently, feeling his fingers grip hers as he came to. She hadn't been big on hand-holding before, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be holding his. Her thumb drifted over his wrist while he struggled to open his eyes.
"Danielle."
His voice was a hoarse whisper, and he sounded in pain. When he shifted, she noticed the awkward way he held his left arm.
"How bad is it, Taylor?" Please don't be badly hurt. She didn't want to see him in pain but, selfish as it sounded, she also needed him whole, to look after her. She was an expert at partying, people and having a good time. A wicked organiser and hard-nosed businesswoman. But jungle survival? Not a clue. There were snakes out there, and wild animals. Taylor looked like the kind of man who would know what to do. They'd need food and water, too. Danielle glanced towards the galley, wondering how well-stocked the plane would have been for such a short flight. Whatever food was on board would soon spoil in this heat.
"My arm, left one." He screwed up his face and cupped the elbow with his right hand. "Must have got yanked against the cuffs when we hit. That, and I feel like I've been in a plane crash."
He was studying her intently as her gaze flicked to the discarded handcuffs and back to him. She'd almost forgotten, but now he'd drawn her attention to them, almost as if testing her, she knew he must be wondering how safe she felt around him.
"Let me see."
He flinched when she felt along the length of his arm, as gently as she could, with no real idea of what she was looking for. People did this in movies. It seemed the right thing to do.
"Needs a sling," he said. "Can you go find a first-aid box? Got to be one. In the galley, maybe, at the back? And check your cell phone if it's still around. See if you have a signal."
For the first time since she'd recovered consciousness Danielle thought about the other passengers and the crew. The rear part of the plane remained intact, virtually untouched apart from a few broken windows. The front was crushed almost beyond recognition. How could anyone have survived that? Someone needed to go check it out. Maybe she could get through to them if she crawled on her hands and knees? The thought made her stomach lurch.
"Sit down, Danielle. The sling can wait." Taylor rested his broken arm on his lap and held out his good hand. "Come over here. Shock will get you if you don't sit down for a few minutes. Think you're okay and then wham, it hits you. Concussion is a given, but if you start to feel really bad, tell me."
He was right. Her limbs were shaking, her stomach watery. If either of them had hit hard enough to cause a brain bleed they could be dead before any hope of rescue.
"Not much we can do about that, is there?"
"I'm no danger to you, Danielle. Come sit with me."
She swallowed down the lingering doubts. The broken arm wouldn't have stopped him running. Why had he stayed if he didn't feel some sort of concern for her?
"Okay, cell phone's in my purse. Let me see if it's still on the seat."
No sign of her purse, but her carry-on bag was, miraculously, still jammed under the seat. Yanking at the zipper, she pulled out a tube of candy and a bottle of water. Had her purse slid from the seat to the mangled front of the plane?
"Haven't yet seen a problem yet that couldn't be solved by large doses of sugar."
That got a chuckle out of him. She pulled out a fruitdrop and offered it to him. He hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth. Popping one into her own mouth, she leaned back against him, closing her eyes. His lips had brushed her fingers as she'd fed him the candy and she still felt the small shiver that had passed through her at the contact.
Be careful, Danielle. It would be too easy to be carried away with this. Hero and heroine in great danger. Adrenaline pumping, Taylor was some sort of criminal, a desperado. She had no idea what he'd done. He shifted to make her comfortable and she felt his strength, despite the injuries. No option but to trust him. With a sigh, she let herself do that.
"Will the man in black have a cell?"
"Checked it already. No signal."
"Taylor."
"Yes."
"Is the plane going to blow up?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"No."
"Oh."
She didn't care, either. She just wanted to sit and reflect on the fact that they were both still alive. A dull ache started on one side of her head, and she leaned it carefully against Taylor's shoulder. Five minutes. Just five minutes, sitting here with him, then she'd go fix a sling for his arm and check on the other passengers. Too quiet, no sound from them at all.
What a rare luxury. It had taken a plane crash to get her to sit still in a man's arms and not be thinking about the itinerary, the next hotel, or what to wear to the club so she'd blend in with the clientele. None of that seemed important any more. No, not just a luxury, it was a gift.
She let go a little more and listened to the steady beat of Taylor's heart. Her gaze dropped to the dark red mark circling his wrist. True, the downside was that they were in a wrecked plane, somewhere in the tropical rainforest. Taylor was hurt. Maybe they wouldn't be found and they'd die here. But, right now she wouldn't trade these five minutes to be anywhere else. Crazy though it seemed, the only place on Earth she wanted to be was here, doing this, with him.
"Can you hear the sea, Taylor?"
"Huh?" He tilted his head and half-smiled.
"Close your eyes," she ordered. "Right now, we're on an endless beach of white-gold sand. The sunset looks as if it's melting into the earth. There's no wind, and the surf's making those funny little sucking noises. And it's warm, and it's safe. Can you see it, Taylor?"
"Yes." His hand squeezed her shoulder.
"Just the two of us, and everything will turn out fine. And…" She sniffed and wiped at her face with her fingers. "Sorry…"
"I'll meet you there someday. When I've got my life back, we'll go to that beach and - hey, come on. Don't cry…" Taylor's voice trailed off and he lapsed into silence.
Danielle's groped in her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose. "I'd like that. Get your life back, and I'll be there."
Her five minutes
were up. Time to get on with surviving this ordeal. Something they'd already started by giving each other the most important thing they could. Strength. Together they'd get through this. But Taylor wasn't coming with her if and when the rescue came, she'd already decided that. When that happened, Danielle wanted him as far away as possible.
She wanted to set him free. But would he go?
Chapter 4
Taylor sat quietly while Danielle fixed him a sling.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you."
"I've had worse." Taylor inhaled and let the breath out slowly. The arm hurt like hell, but there wasn't much they could do about setting it. "I need to keep it as still as possible until the rescue."
Danielle glanced at him briefly before resuming her task. "Are the painkillers working yet?"
"Yes, the head's feeling better."
"Do you think the plane's radio is still intact?"
"Finish up, I'll go check, and see if anyone's still alive up there."
"I'll do it. You can't get through there with a broken arm."
"No, not something you need to see." It was bad enough that they still had the gruesome spectacle of the policeman behind them. Taylor glanced at the body. They needed to get rid of him if they aimed to use the plane for shelter.
None of this worried him. Blood and gore didn't give him pause, but Danielle? This would be new to her.
He held the broken arm still against his chest while she slid hers around his shoulders to fasten the sling, hissing softly when she pulled it too tight.
She stilled. "I'm sorry. I'll be as quick as I can."
The compassion in her eyes made him want to lay his head on her shoulder and stay that way forever. Let someone else be the strong one for a change. So tired. So bloody tired of everything. And then, hell, stop being such a wimp.
"No, it's okay. Go ahead." He leaned forward to give Danielle more room to work. When a loose lock of her hair brushed across his cheek he kept very still and breathed in her perfume, memorising the feel of the gentle fingers tending him. Something to take with him when this was all over.
Setting Him Free Page 2