“Sam?” she whimpered out instead; again, no response.
She noted absently his body was no longer pinning her to her seat. She waved her hand in front of her through the pitch-black night, and connected with another human form.
“Sam?” She sobbed with tremendous relief. She wasn’t all alone. When Sam failed to answer, she remained unconcerned. She had drifted in and out of consciousness. She felt around for her seatbelt and unclasped it. Shifting closer to Sam’s comforting body, Christy grabbed at a limp, heavy arm and placed it around her. She snuggled in closer to him, placing her head on his sodden shoulder, sheltering her face from the cold dampness of the whipping wind. She balled her fists under her chin with her arms pressed tight to her chest for warmth.
“It’s okay, Sam. We landed. It’s okay now,” she croaked out. Then, pulling Sam’s jacket securely around them both, Christy once more succumbed to oblivion.
When Christy again woke, the freezing rain and wind had stopped. Light was dotting the horizon through cracks in the trees, reflecting off the battered plane. She glanced around in confusion. She noted Sam, still unmoving, beside her.
“Sam?” Her throat remained raw and painful. She shook him. Sam’s head fell forward at an odd, grotesque angle. Christy sat back, filling with apprehension. “Get up, Sam. Please,” she quietly pleaded, her eyes tearing misted her vision, her reasoning faltering to deny the obvious. Christy reached out a cold hand and ran the backs of her fingertips with tenderness down his roughened face after she righted his head back into a more normal position.
“Never mind, Sam, you sleep for a while longer. We were very busy this week. You need your sleep.”
Christy pulled his arm around her once more and again placed her head on his shoulder, squeezing her eyes closed at the sudden hurtful, knowing pain in her breast. Sam was gone, her only friend; the pain was unbearable, sleep was safer.
* * * *
A set of dark eyes had been watching the exchange. Lando knew Sam was dead, as were the others. Only he and Christy had survived. He’d felt her weakened pulse after pulling Sam’s large body off her. Sam had almost suffocated her, trying to shield her from impact, and Lando was surprised she awakened at all. Lando then spent a great deal of time rummaging through the plane, finding anything useful, mindful of his own aches and pains as he hadn’t escaped the crash unscathed. His head throbbed from the blow that rendered him senseless, but he refused to dwell on it. The emergency locator transmitter on the plane was gone; they were all alone. Tampering with the beacon was a risk Lando and the cop had to chance. No one would have a clue where they crashed.
The first item he grabbed was the officer’s gun. He dumped Christy’s duffel bag out in search of anything that would aid in his survival. Now that Christy regained consciousness, he thoughtfully wondered what to do with her. If he left her alone, the elements would kill her…eventually. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a slow and agonizing death. In her state, he doubted it would take too long to succumb; her small body and hands shook, and she seemed to be hallucinating. He heard her pitiful cries for her mother, she thought the deceased man to be only resting; her mind must be gone from the shock. He knew he should put her out of her misery; it would be the only merciful solution. Yet, assassin though he was, Lando had never once killed a woman. He’d never even entertained the idea. He felt they were too defenseless; the very idea sickened him. Grimly, he was reminded that that particular idiosyncrasy was why he was in this precarious predicament now.
Lando’s acute hearing pricked, and he noted the curious sound he was now hearing was her humming. Her body rocked back and forth like a small, frightened child, her eyes were opened wide as though unable to take in everything…or perhaps to see a place beyond her terror. A slight, painful groaning could be heard occasionally from the back of her throat. She probably wouldn’t even notice his approach. Sighing, he resolved to just get it over with.
It was a damn shame; she was such a pretty little thing. Moving forward with grim determination, Lando hardened his heart. Not a difficult thing for him to do, really. He often wondered if it was even in there.
Christy’s humming ceased on an abrupt note as she caught Lando’s movement from the corner of her eye. She glanced up as he approached her, his gaze locked with beautiful doe eyes. Lando stopped less than a foot away. He heard her whimper; her straining body cuddled up closer to Sam. Her tiny body pressing into the dead man. One by one her tears began to fall.
“Please,” she begged, her breath ragged. “Don’t hurt me.”
Her voice was sweet and broken. She blinked those doe eyes trying to clear them. He could tell she knew what he was intending. She could no doubt see it in his cold, soulless black eyes, his calculated approach, and the set of his emotionless expression. It was the expression he used for his marks; it was his mask, and his shield. He had seen the look in the mirror often enough; he was a scary bastard. He knew she could tell he was going to kill her, and she was completely defenseless against him. Damn. He’d been certain her mind was gone, he could see it wasn’t. With her sensing his intention, this would prove to be more difficult.
“It won’t hurt, sweetheart,” Lando soothed.
“Please don’t,” she begged again; her body cringed at the sound of his deep, guttural, voice. Her gaze looked imploringly into his; her eyes overflowed with frightened tears. She pulled on Sam’s cold body in an attempt to hide under him. Lando ran a cold hand over his face.
Her pitiful whispering caused Lando a moment’s pause. Perhaps he should just wait until her time was closer. The cold would soon cloud her mind and she wouldn’t be so fearful of him; hopefully, she would slip into unconsciousness. He couldn’t possibly take her with him. He felt certain she was too far gone, her body incapacitated, and she would only slow him down. Though small, he didn’t like the idea of carrying her over miles of rough terrain for God knew how long; it could take weeks.
She’s a tiny little sparrow—an innocent—she’s dead weight—you can’t help her…
Her sobbing once more captured his attention. Never before did Lando remember arguing with himself over a hit. Lando noted the poor little thing was pulling pathetically on the dead man’s clothing, seeking his protection. His coat was large, and she had it wrapped almost around the both of them, trying to hide from him. An idea came to Lando. He crouched down before her violently shaking form.
“All right, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you. I’ll trade you. Give me Sam’s jacket and I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
Cautiously, she peeked out from behind Sam’s coat up at him. Lando knew there was nothing she could do but comply; her wide doe eyes went to the officer’s gun tucked within the front of his belt. She nodded and with reluctance, began shifting away from Sam. She looked away as Lando removed Sam’s coat, placing her shaking hands over her eyes. Lando was relieved she’d stopped watching him, her gaze was haunting.
Once Lando stripped the man of his jacket, he turned and left her alone. He felt positive without the added protection of the coat she would swiftly succumb. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to suffer much longer.
* * * *
Christy watched Lando’s retreating back. She was frozen, terrified. She was so tired and alone. The cold walls of the battered plane reminded her of a cell or a coffin. Everything was so quiet. Her breath shattered the air’s stillness. With Sam not wearing his jacket, it was no longer feasible to hide. He was dead. She would be too, soon. It would be easy to give in and go to sleep. Yet, if she were ready for death, why had she begged Lando to spare her life? Why had he left? What if he came back?
Her confusion was too great to ponder, and on a deeper level she sensed her physical shock and confusion. Teeth chattering, she inched away from Sam’s cold body, too tired and too unwilling to dwell on her thoughts. Except one.
“Thank you, my friend.” Her trembling fingers slid down Sam’s cold face. “Thank you for trying to help me get my life out of the terrible hell I landed i
n.”
She turned to look for an escape route. With sudden determination, Christy approached Howard’s still form. He was the smallest of the men, and Lando hadn’t bothered with his jacket. Most of Howard’s body was slumped to the side, his seatbelt was off and his body was tossed part way through a window. Christy struggled to remove the torn jacket; she did her best to ignore the blood and the scrappy man’s sightless gaze. Though she wore her own coat, it was a ‘city’ coat, as Sam once laughingly referred to it. Howard’s was more suited to the extreme elements.
Christy peeked out another shattered window. She needed to get away. She knew from looking at him that Lando was completely without mercy. He took from her the one thing keeping her sanity from slipping. She could no longer cuddle up to Sam’s protective body, which had shielded her from the harsh cold; she could no longer close her eyes and imagine him waking and comforting her. Reality was a cold slap in the face, but as she moved, her bones aching, her blood flowed with her thoughts.
Stealthily, she exited the plane through a small, jagged hole near the lost wing, pushing her way through battered tree branches. Her body aching in protest and clutching the jacket around her, Christy ran, her hand cradled against a sharp pain in her ribs, stumbling toward a cluster of large, moss-covered rocks. Seeing a small opening at the bottom of the rocks, Christy crouched low, scooting inside, her mind only vaguely worrying about wild animal inhabitants.
Thrusting the thought aside, she squirmed as far back as the small hole would allow, breathing heavily, flinching as tiny stones embedded into her hands, cutting into her pants at the knees; her ankles protesting as her sneaker-clad feet dug atop the ground, aiding her forward motion. Christy felt certain Lando would never be able to squeeze in to reach her. To her left, within hands’ reach she grabbed a fistful of a pine branch and dragged the branch next to her hoping it would offer a barrier. Shaking with fear and cold, Christy attempted to pull herself into the fetal position, managing somewhat in the tight enclosure. Her body strained from the exertion, and mentally and physically exhausted, she fell into a fitful sleep.
* * * *
After gathering all items he felt useful, Lando sat down to wait. He had taken a piece of metal that broke free from the plane and, using a hand-sized rock, he pounded it as best as he could into the shape of a crude, serviceable bowl. Hopefully he would come across water he could boil. He started a fire with the officer’s lighter. The man had been a nervous smoker. Unfortunately, Sam’s cell phone was broken on impact; it was on his belt when he was crushed. Christy appeared not to be in possession of one, which made him curious. A gorgeous little thing like her must have dozens of guys to string along. At least she might have. It was a moot point now.
Lando shoved both flashlights he found into the duffel bag. He tossed Christy’s camera, though used the case to hold her sewing kit and a small first-aid kit. Not much was to be had. Both he and the officer left the city without even a change of clothes. Their escape was frantic. Thankfully a small amount of extra clothing had been at the tiny cabin they ended up in, although they left everything behind when they departed. Another mad dash.
Some safe house.
The officer was almost Lando’s size and he stripped him of his clothes. They hadn’t had much time to prepare for their hasty departure. The detectives wanted to get Lando as far away as fast as possible, and keep him safely away. Oh no, they couldn’t give up their only chance at finally nabbing his notorious boss. A powerhouse of a man who had eluded them for decades.
Lando’s thoughts reflected back to the evening before. He hadn’t been in the least bit surprised when the cop informed him their cover had been compromised and their need to move immediately was imperative. Their flight from the safe house had been in the dead of night’s cover. Their escape so fast and furious they blew a front tire, damaged the radiator, and cracked the axle.
They were lucky to come across Howard and the tiny airstrip after numerous anxious-filled hours of walking a somewhat overgrown road. Howard hadn’t brought them in originally, and the cop fast-peddled, telling lie after lie, to swing a ride from the reluctant man. Their own return flight had been grounded from home base by mysterious circumstances; an alternate route hurriedly mapped out. They thought themselves safe once aboard the plane. Lando shook his head at the irony of his situation.
He gazed about for a brief moment, thinking at least there was an upside to this dilemma—his ex-boss couldn’t possibly find him when Lando had no inkling of where he was either.
Lando looked over the meager items before him; he might be able to use the floss for traps for small game. Christy’s socks would prove useful as mittens if he were to slit small holes for his thumbs and baby fingers. Tylenol and a few mints, some hair elastics and a few razors, a flare gun. Checking his watch, Lando stood; feeling grim, he realized he was stalling. There wasn’t much light left in the day and he needed to get moving. He’d waited long enough. He couldn’t leave the poor, helpless little thing and he couldn’t take her with him.
Christy.
Her name popped unbidden into his head which surprised him. No names was his policy. He called the cop Mac, not caring if it was his name or not. Lando realized he was rattled, unusually uncommon. He surmised it was because she was female and unarmed and defenseless. It couldn’t be helped. Whether or not she pleaded with him, he wouldn’t leave her to die in such a torturously slow, brutal fashion. He would hold her to his chest while easing her fears and sharing his warmth. He would talk calmly and rationally, urging her to remember a warm, safe place, and once she calmed to the point of relaxation, he would physically end her misery. He couldn’t afford to put a bullet in her; he needed them for hunting.
On stealthy feet, Lando entered the plane, stalker mode. He was hoping to catch her off guard if possible; he knew her cries would follow him to the grave. And now so will her name, damn. If he were a praying man, he would have prayed she had already given in. He felt sickened at what he was about to do; he’d been party to a few mercy killings. He only hoped if ever he were to be in the same situation, someone would show him a shred of humanity, not that he felt he deserved it.
Lando stopped short when he realized the girl was gone. How she slipped by him undetected was a mystery; he was amazed she could even walk. Most likely it had been while he was banging on the metal. Apparently she wasn’t as injured or addled as he assumed. More than likely she had just wandered off in a dazed and confused, lost stupor.
“Well, I guess assuming really does make an ass out of you and me,” Lando muttered.
This was an inconvenience. His gaze shifted to his warm, beckoning fire. For a moment, he stood thinking. Why should he bother? She meant nothing to him. With irritation, he knew instinctively that not knowing what had befallen her would drive him nuts for the rest of his life. Damn curiosity being part of human nature. Now he would have to go look for her.
Exiting the plane, Lando glanced around, searching the distance. She couldn’t have gone far. She was weak and exhausted. He was certain shock had set in. Her frame of mind was still up for question. He remembered she voiced being hungry on the plane—so was he. Spying small footprints on the opposite side of the plane, Lando followed them, certain he would come across her still form lying dead amidst the foliage. He hoped that was the case. He would then gently return her to Sam’s side and be off. His confusion intensified as he came to a cluster of rocks.
Kneeling on sticks and dead leaves, Lando crouched down to peer into the small, cave-like hole. Just barely, he could make out her form pressed against the stone past a branch. He listened intently and could hear her quiet breathing. Lando slumped down. Damn. He was too big to crawl in after her. She was too far back to reach in and grab.
He looked to the sky and checked his watch. Only a few hours of daylight remained. He didn’t want to leave her while she still breathed, but what else could he do? They had flown way off course, perhaps hundreds of miles farther north. No one would be
looking for them out here. It might take days for the elements to kill her if she were semi-mobile. If a wild animal were to stumble on her, she would be ripped to shreds. It would indeed be a slow, agonizing death.
“Please.”
The whimpered, agonized plea reached his ears. Keenly, Lando listened.
“Please don’t leave me,” the soft pleading voice called out. Her throat was raw and raspy, and he remembered her screams of terror aboard the plane.
“Come out, sweetheart. I’ll sit with you,” Lando coaxed, softening his hard voice. He saw her tiny body jump as though he awoke her from her dreams—or nightmares. Her wild doe eyes focused on him and he sensed her overwhelming panic.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Lando could see her pressing herself back as far as the cold stone of the cave would allow. She was whimpering.
“Come out and let me end your suffering, sweetheart,” Lando said, filled with sympathy. His heart near ached for her. Lando had listened as a great many men begged him for mercy. He never remembered anyone getting under his skin as she was. It was almost unnerving.
Christy was sobbing. Her breath came in ragged, choking gasps. “You…you prom…promised. You…you have…have the…the jacket.”
Lando exhaled a loud breath. He had promised. With resolve, he rose to his feet. At least his curiosity had been satisfied, he knew where she was. He pulled a chocolate bar from his jacket; he knew it was a stupid thing to do. Hopefully she would be dead by morning, but he wouldn’t kill her. He dropped the food at the front of the cave. He knew he should save it. He could use it. She was struggling so hard for her last few hours he would offer her this small kindness.
Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] Page 3