by A. J. Quinn
“Neither will you,” he responded. His voice was calm and emotionless, just as it had always been. “But then you already know how this ends.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out handcuffs he must have taken from one of the deputies. “I need you to put these on, Commander.”
“Why the hell would I do that? Why would I help you? Do you think I’m going to make this easy for you?”
“You’ll help me or they’ll never find your girlfriend.”
“Tate? I hate to disappoint you, but the sheriff’s already located where you left her SUV.”
Khalid’s mouth twisted. “Yes, but they won’t find Tate.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t leave her with the vehicle. I planned on taking your brother. But finding your girlfriend proved even more…enjoyable.”
Evan’s stomach lurched. She knew he was watching her face as the realization sank in, but she wasn’t that good an actress and the thought of Khalid touching Tate sliced through her. “Where is she? What did you do to Tate?”
Khalid shrugged. “I took her somewhere isolated, somewhere no one will find her unless they know where to look, and then I cut her so she would slowly bleed out. But before I left her, I let her know I was coming after you.”
Evan squeezed her eyes closed. All she could hear was the thunder of her heartbeat as she tried to push away the image of Tate, bloodied and broken at Khalid’s hand. “No,” she whispered, but it was still more prayer than belief. “You didn’t.”
A second…a minute…a lifetime went by.
He snapped the cuffs around her wrist. “You’ll never know.”
*
Tate stared at the house as the night deepened. Several feet away, Tom and the FBI agents quietly conferred.
She knew reinforcements had been called in, including members of the Seattle SWAT team. But it was taking too long. Much too long, because somewhere inside the house the woman she loved was face-to-face with a man who had already done unspeakable harm to her. A man intent on hurting her again. Killing her.
“Tate.”
She blinked and saw Tom approach her, a rifle in his hands.
“How’re you holding up?”
She shrugged and released a sigh. “Do you think you’re going to need that?” she asked softly.
“It’s a possibility we can’t discount.”
“Are you any good?”
“I generally hit what I’m aiming at,” he answered gruffly. “Can I get your home telephone number? Agent McConnell is going to try and establish contact.”
Shortly after Tate reeled off the number, she heard the phone ringing inside the house. A long moment later, the younger of the FBI agents began softly speaking into his cell phone—a brief conversation lasting only a minute or two. When he disconnected, he glanced in Tate’s direction before turning to Tom.
“Anderson says he wants a helicopter,” McConnell said. “Wants it put down in that field across the way, fueled and ready to go, and he wants us to make sure he has a clear path to get to it. He also said he doesn’t need a pilot. Claims Evan Kane’s going to fly him where he wants to go, and he’ll release her once he’s somewhere safe.”
The field had been used as a helicopter landing pad once before, Tate recalled, thinking back to the day Althea had landed there and given her back her life. A life and a chance at happiness that were now being threatened.
“Do you believe him? Will he let Evan go?”
McConnell stared at her silently before shaking his head. “There’s no way we can let him leave here with Kane. If he does…”
Tate felt sick inside.
Before McConnell could say anything else, his cell phone rang and another brief conversation followed. “Anderson wants a pizza. Says he’s hungry. He’s testing us, trying to show us he’s in control. Let’s get him a pizza because that’s all he’s getting from us tonight.”
*
Nearly three hours had passed since the pizza had been delivered. One hundred eighty minutes without any sign of movement from the house. Without another demand.
The ambulance and coroner had come and gone.
The SWAT team from Seattle had arrived and was now in position, watching the house and waiting.
But Khalid wasn’t visible through any window. Nor was he responding to any further attempts to communicate with him.
Tate had begun to pace back and forth, switching directions abruptly like a caged animal, her hands curled into fists at her side. And then she heard it—the distinctive sound of blades chopping through the air as a helicopter approached and landed. Her heart sank even as it began to pound. Nearly dizzy with reaction, she stared in disbelief.
Fury outdistanced fatigue. “What the—Jesus, Tom, you’re giving him what he wants?”
Tom turned at the sound of her voice. “No, no we’re not, Tate, I promise. We just want Anderson to think we are. The snipers can’t get a bead on him and McConnell wants to get him out of the house. Get him paying attention to that chopper instead of whatever he’s doing in there.”
To Evan. Tom hadn’t said it, but then he didn’t really need to. It was all Tate could think of—Khalid alone in the house with Evan. “You think he’s in there hurting Evan, don’t you.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Kelsey standing there. “He’s hurting her,” Tate said with more certainty. “And we’re not doing anything to stop it.”
“Tate, everything that can be done is being done. But no matter what’s happening to her, Evan will get through it. She’s a fighter. I knew that the moment I met her. You know it too, and she’ll have you to help her. She’ll have all of us to help her.”
“Yes, but…” She stopped and had to fight back a wave of despair.
“She’ll be fine,” Kelsey said firmly, and with total conviction.
Tate shoved her hands into her pockets. She needed a minute, just a minute, to settle. To get her emotions under control. But before she could do or say anything, the front door opened and her world narrowed to a single point of focus.
Evan was standing there, dark hair haloing her face.
She could just make out Khalid shielded behind her. He held Evan’s hair tightly in his left fist, pulling her head back, while his right hand held a long slim blade pressed to her throat. He wouldn’t be able to see the SWAT officers from his vantage point, but he seemed to be measuring the steadiness of the rifle in Tom’s hand.
If that was the case, it was possible he didn’t like what he saw. His expression altered subtly and he began breathing, fast and audibly. But perhaps he was getting excited at the prospect of getting away and eluding justice once again.
Tate didn’t care. All she could see was Evan holding herself stiffly—in a way that had nothing to do with the hand tangled in her hair or the knife at her throat. Her mouth was swollen, while blood streaked the side of her face and ran down her chin.
“FBI, Anderson. Drop your weapon.”
“I don’t think so,” Khalid replied. “I think what’s going to happen is you are all going to move back and allow the commander and me to get to that helicopter over there. That was the deal. Otherwise, you can sit back and watch while I kill her. Trust me, it won’t take much. Just a little more pressure and she’ll bleed out before you can do anything to save her.”
Evan ignored the knife pressed painfully against her throat, focused instead on her breathing. Every time she inhaled she felt a sharp stab in her side. Bastard probably busted a rib. She didn’t need to look through the glare of lights to know Tom, his deputies, and the FBI agents had taken up firing stances. A show of force.
More importantly, for an instant, Tate’s face had wavered into focus.
She was here. Alive.
Evan felt a nearly overwhelming sense of joy, followed almost immediately by the need to go to her. To hold her. To be with her. But to do that, Khalid would have to release her, and she wasn’t certain he was willing to let her go, even in the face
of overwhelming odds.
“It’s over, John. Surely you can see this can only end badly,” she said. “Why don’t you put the knife down?”
At first she didn’t think he’d heard her. But then he leaned his head closer, pressed the knife more firmly, and laughed. The knife sliced into her skin. Fresh blood welled up and trickled down her neck. “Why would I want to do that?”
“You’ve got to know you’re not walking away this time. You’ve done too much damage. Hurt too many people. No lawyer is going to get you off with just a slap on the wrist this time.”
“That’s supposed to encourage me to put my knife down? To let you go?”
“Yes, because the good news is you’ll still be alive, and where there’s life, there’s always hope. You taught me that.”
He appeared to consider her words. “You’re right. And I can still provide valuable information about weapons and drugs moving through Afghanistan. I can still make a deal.” His fingers tightened in her hair, the knife pressed deeper. “But it will hardly matter where you’re concerned, Commander. Your time’s up, I’m afraid. I win.”
Evan’s mind stayed surprisingly calm as his words crystalized and she realized he intended to kill her. In a second that seemed to span minutes, she saw Tate, met her eyes. She saw Tom, his weapon aimed, waiting for an opening. And having nothing to lose, she mustered her strength and jerked her head to one side.
*
In a moment of perfect clarity, Tate realized Khalid was going to kill Evan. Realized Evan knew it. Despair swept through her and she turned toward Tom.
Saw him draw in a breath and exhale.
And then he pulled the trigger.
*
Feeling the heat and the force of the impact, Evan recoiled. She dropped to her knees as the rifle’s report echoed, drowning out all other sound.
Then there was only the sound of the waves tumbling endlessly against the shore.
*
From out of the darkness beyond the glaring lights, Tate rushed forward. Dropping to her knees in front of Evan, she extended a shaking hand, touched her fingertips to the abrasions on her face and her bruised mouth.
“Oh God, Evan, I was so scared. I thought he would kill you before Tom could stop him. I wasn’t sure Tom could stop him.”
“So little faith,” Tom muttered as he reached for the handcuffs on Evan’s wrists and unlocked them. “I told you I generally hit what I’m aiming at.”
Tate took a ragged breath, turned back to Evan. “Tell me you’re all right.”
Evan could only nod as her pulse pounded and blood rushed through her veins. In the next instant, all her words evaporated. Trembling, she inhaled deeply, trying to draw in Tate’s familiar scent as she ran her hands up and down Tate’s arms. Reassuring herself Tate was really there.
She drew in another shuddering breath, but the pressure in her chest wouldn’t ease and all she could do was burrow into her, burying her face in Tate’s hair. Whispering her name, she gently touched her lips to Tate’s brow, her cheeks, her mouth. Tasting salt, but not knowing if it was from Tate’s tears or her own.
“Evan?”
“I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” But she wasn’t. Not yet. She couldn’t keep her voice steady and gave up trying. Squeezing her eyes shut and digging for composure, she felt the steady beat of Tate’s heart. “Just be with me. Just let me hold you for a minute.”
“I’m right in front of you, love. I’m not going anywhere without you, so take whatever time you need.” Tate tilted her head. “Then we’re going to have Kelsey take a look at you.”
The ghost of a smile skirted across Evan’s mouth. “All right. But not just yet.” She drew back for an instant, but only so she could frame Tate’s face with her hands. “I know I haven’t told you often enough, but I love you.”
Tate leaned in and offered her mouth. “I know you do. I love you too. You just need to stop scaring me.”
“I promise. And you still need to go flying with me.”
“Deal. Now, let’s get this over with because I want to take you somewhere.”
“Where?” Evan asked as they got to their feet and began making their way toward the others.
Tate looked at her and grinned. “Wherever we can run naked on a beach and make love under the stars.”
Epilogue
“Oh God, Evan, I don’t know if I can do this.”
They were standing in the field the local flight club used as an airstrip, where the smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the scent of burning fuel. The dew had begun to disappear in the early morning sun, but the air was still quite cool and carried the distinct feeling of fall.
This was it. They had pulled the bright silver biplane out of the hangar into the light and Evan was about to give Tate her first taste of open-cockpit flying.
Flying had been and would always remain Evan’s passion. It defined freedom and adventure. And more than anything, she wanted to be able to share it with Tate.
“You’ll be fine once we get up, I promise. There’s nothing quite like looking at the world through the struts of a Tiger Moth. And there’s nowhere else on earth where you can feel the sun’s warmth, the dampness of the clouds, and the swirl of the slipstream.”
On her advice, Tate had dressed for warmth. Full thermal underwear beneath jeans, a heavy sweater, thick socks, and a pair of vintage leather flying gauntlets Evan had found at a roadside flea market. She had topped everything with a sheepskin-lined leather flight jacket she had borrowed from Evan. But she continued to look doubtful and stared at the biplane’s simple frame with clear distrust.
Evan grinned at her. “I love you, you know.”
“I know. I love you too. Now remind me again why I’m doing this.”
“Because this is the way we were meant to fly and flying’s the thing I love to do the most, next to making love with you.”
“Good answer.”
Evan watched Tate take a deep breath before putting on her helmet and goggles and stood ready to lend a hand while Tate clambered into the front cockpit. “When you’re on the wing, grab the struts, step on the seat, and ease yourself down.” She helped strap Tate into the five-point harness and showed her how to hook up the headset and throat mic that would allow them to talk during the flight.
All that remained before taxiing was for Evan to complete the pre-takeoff checks from the rear cockpit. And then, without further ceremony, the small aircraft began to move forward toward the open grass paddock, gently rocking back and forth as they rolled over the slightly uneven turf.
“Are you ready?”
As soon as Tate responded with a fainthearted yes, Evan opened the throttle. The tail lifted within seconds and the biplane effortlessly took to the air. A few heartbeats later, they were slipping through the clear blue sky as they climbed to three thousand feet.
Evan wanted to revel in the sheer joy of being airborne again, but she sat silently waiting, hoping for a sign that would tell her Tate was at least okay with this.
Anything.
Please.
And then she heard her laugh. A joyous, musical sound that filled her head and her heart, followed by Tate’s whisper.
“Oh God, Evan. This is amazing. You have to teach me how to fly.”
About the Author
AJ Quinn’s first novel, Hostage Moon, was a 2012 Lambda Literary Award finalist and a 2012 Alice B. Lavender Certificate winner. A transplant from Cuba to Toronto, she juggles the demands of a busy consulting practice with those of her first true love—storytelling—finding time to write mostly late at night or in the wee hours of the morning. An avid cyclist, scuba diver, and photographer, AJ’s always willing to travel at a moment’s notice.
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