Immortal Nights

by Lynsay Sands

  "Basically, yes," he muttered.

  "Like what?"

  "Abigail?"

  They both paused and turned to glance around at that uncertain voice.

  A man was approaching them along the beach, tall, muscular, with short dark hair and a beard and mustache. The old Abigail wouldn't have been able to make him out well enough to recognize him. But the new Abigail did. Slipping from Tomasso's arms, she rushed toward him, crying, "Jet!"

  Thirteen

  "You saw everything?" Abigail asked with dismay.

  "Yeah," Jet assured her. "There's a camera in the back and a small screen on my panel so I can keep an eye on the cargo. You know, in case ties break and something slides or whatever," Jet explained. "Fortunately, it's positioned so the two goons riding in front couldn't see it. But when I saw you throw back the tarp and reveal that guy in the cage . . . man," he said, shaking his head. "I thought we were all dead."

  "So did I when I saw him," Abigail admitted with a grimace, glancing down at the glass of Coke in her hand. They were seated outside on the patio of the open bar, and Jet was explaining what had happened since they'd boarded the plane.

  "Yeah, I figured," Jet said wryly, slinging an arm around her and hugging her briefly.

  A low growl came from Tomasso's direction and Abigail eased back from Jet with a crooked smile. "So what happened then?"

  "Well, I watched you help the guy in the cage. Then you went behind the cage and he followed and I couldn't see you anymore. The light didn't reach where you two went. I guessed you were sitting in the dark so the kidnappers wouldn't see you if they came to check on him again. I figured the two of you were trying to work out what to do to get us all out of the situation."

  "Oh," Abigail murmured and refused to look at Tomasso. They hadn't been talking. First they'd been . . . well . . . and then they'd passed out.

  "Then a couple hours later you both appeared again and started looking at stuff," Jet continued. "The next thing I knew Tarzan had the parachute on, the cargo door was opening and he was pulling you off the plane!"

  "Yeah, I didn't know he planned to do that, Jet. Really," Abigail assured him. "I never would have just left you on the plane alone with those guys. Neither would he," she added quickly. "I found out later that he thought I was a stowaway and that you were working with the bad guys."

  "Ah." Jet nodded. "I figured it was something like that. I did see you try to throw yourself back as he pulled you out." Jet frowned, his gaze rising to her head. "It looked like you might have hit your head."

  "I did," she admitted.

  "Yeah, I thought so." He shook his head. "After that, I didn't know what the hell to do. I was thinking should I wait until we landed and pretend to be shocked that the cargo was empty? Or should I say something about the cargo door being open right then and just not mention you?" Grimacing, he added, "I didn't want them knowing I knew what the cargo was though, so I was still trying to work it out when one of them noticed the red cargo light blinking on the panel and spazzed. He went to check his cargo and was back in like a heartbeat freaking out. 'Land the plane! Land the plane!' he's hollering." Jet waved his hands around in the air as if imitating the client.

  "So, I land the plane. I wanted to anyway. I mean you were out there somewhere with Tarzan and I didn't know who the hell he was or what was happening," he pointed out.

  Abigail winced and nodded.

  "So, by this time we're almost to Puerto Rico," Jet continued. "With a little chatter, I get permission to land there. The whole time I'm lining up to land, I'm freaking, thinking these guys are gonna kill me as soon as we're on the ground. Or I'm gonna wind up in that cage, right?"

  Abigail nodded, her eyes wide with concern.

  "But no," Jet said on a laugh. "Hell, they just bailed. Couldn't get off the plane fast enough. Didn't even bother to take their cage, just took off, squawking about needing a boat and starting a search and stuff."

  "Ahhhh," Abigail exhaled, glad they'd reacted like that and left Jet alone and safe.

  "So then I'm trying to figure out what to do next. I knew you were out there somewhere with Tarzan. Didn't know if you were safe or what, or even if you were alive, but I couldn't just leave you out there. And those guys were looking for you too. Well, looking for Tarzan, and if you were with him . . ." He shrugged, took a drink from his rum-and-Coke, then continued, "So I rented a boat and searched around the area. I knew you guys had left the plane further back, but with currents and everything I thought it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with those other two looking, so I did check. But after two days I got back on the plane and flew to Puerto Plata to start a search here, but on land. I figured by now, you'd either have made it to shore, or . . ." He trailed off apologetically.

  Made it to shore or died, Abigail finished the thought silently and nodded in understanding. What else could he think?

  "So, I've been traveling along the coast, asking questions, seeing if anyone got picked up by a local fisherman, or came out of the water whether alive or dead. Then that storm hit, slowing me down. Couldn't travel that day at all, didn't even dare move around outside. Rented a room and waited for it to pass, then had trouble moving further along the road when it did pass. There were roads out and trees down and--" He shook his head, peered down into his glass, then glanced up to offer her a wry smile. "But then I get here, and I'm getting nowhere as usual. No one's seen anything or knows anything, and I think I'll just take a walk on the beach and figure out where to try next and I hear your voice and . . ." He held his arms out. "Here I am."

  "Yes," she nodded. He was here indeed, and now she was in a bit of a quandary about what to do.

  "Better yet, here you are," Jet said, his exuberance sounding a little forced as he leaned over to give her another hug. Holding her tight, he muttered, "Man, Abs, I was beginning to think I'd lost you. I kept remembering your head bouncing off the cargo door and thinking, that's it. She's a goner."

  "No," Abigail said faintly, easing back from his hug again when another low growl came from Tomasso. It was coming from deep in his throat, so low she didn't think Jet could hear it, but she could. Smiling nervously, she said, "No, not a goner. Woke up the next day on a deserted beach with Tar--I mean Tomasso," she corrected herself quickly.

  Jet stiffened and frowned. "Tomasso?" His gaze slid to Tomasso now. He'd been kind of ignoring him since she'd introduced them. But then Abigail had been babbling nervously at the time, and asking questions as she hurried him toward the restaurants and bars. She'd insisted they find somewhere to sit and "talk properly," mostly in the hopes of giving herself time to think. Abigail had known Jet would want answers and explanations and she'd been trying to work out a sanitized version of the tale of her time since leaving the plane that didn't include immortals or the fact that she was now one.

  Not that Jet could have seen Tomasso well enough to recognize him on the beach. It had been extremely dark there. She suspected he'd only recognized her voice when he found them. He certainly couldn't have been able to see her well enough to recognize her, or notice the changes in her even. He probably still couldn't see her well enough to notice. Abigail had deliberately picked a table on the fringe of the patio, as far from the lights of the open bar as possible.

  "You're the guy who was on the plane?" Jet asked, his expression tight as he squinted at Tomasso, trying to better see him.

  "Looks different dressed, huh?" Abigail said with forced good cheer despite knowing he couldn't possibly see him well at all. She looked at Tomasso, able to see him quite clearly thanks to the nanos improving her night vision. With his long dark hair back in a ponytail and wearing the black dress pants and white dress shirt he'd donned for dinner at the restaurant, Tomasso didn't look anything like the naked wild man she'd first encountered on the cargo plane. She suspected that Jet wouldn't have recognized him even if he could see him better.

  The two men stared at each other long and hard, and then Jet turned to peer at her and si
mply raised one eyebrow. There was a wealth of meaning in that eyebrow. It basically read, What the hell? Who's this chump? What are you doing with him? Do I need to pop the bastard? Should the authorities be called? And you look fine so why the hell didn't you find some way to contact me and let me know you were okay?

  Grimacing, Abigail offered another weak smile and patted his arm. "Maybe I should explain what happened after we left the plane."

  "Yeah," Jet agreed shortly. "Maybe you should."

  Abigail nodded. "Well . . ." She paused and cleared her throat. "First off, I did knock myself out when he pulled me off the plane. Which meant poor Tomasso had to swim to shore pulling me behind him. He even had to scare off a nosy shark that came along. It stole my shoe, but he apparently punched it and scared it off," she added.

  Jet didn't look impressed. In fact, there was now a skeptical gleam in his eye, like he was thinking Tomasso had made that up or something.

  Grimacing, she continued, "Then we started trying to walk, hoping to find civilization."

  "Trying?" Jet interrupted.

  "Well, I wasn't much good the first day," Abigail admitted. "Too out of shape I guess, or maybe it was the head injury. Tomasso had bandaged it up by the way. We had the first aid kit from the plane."

  "Uh-huh," Jet said.

  "So, we didn't get far at first," she muttered. "I was lots better the second day though, or maybe it was the third," she added with a frown. It was so hard to keep things straight when she was leaving out whole chunks of time, like their bumping and grinding in the sand and passing out for hours, or bumping and grinding against a tree, or--Abigail rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Then Tomasso was injured and we had to stop walking."

  "What kind of injury?" Jet asked at once.

  Abigail opened her mouth, closed it, then glanced to Tomasso, panic the overriding emotion she was experiencing. She so wasn't telling Jet about Tomasso's junk. Abigail wasn't even sure what had happened to it anyway, but she wasn't admitting to cleaning and spreading antibiotic cream on his penis and then bandaging it up.

  Apparently, Tomasso didn't have the same reservations. Actually, he seemed to get pleasure in announcing, "I woke up to find my cock looking like a crab had played patty cake with it."

  Jet choked on the drink he'd just taken of his rum-and-Coke, and Abigail dropped her head into her hands on a groan.

  Tomasso wasn't done though. While Jet gaped at him, Tomasso smiled and said, "Abigail got the first aid kit. She cleaned it up, smeared cream all over it, and then bandaged it."

  Abigail was quite sure she didn't imagine the way he drawled out the word all as if to suggest--

  "Abs?" Jet growled.

  Sighing, she shrugged helplessly. "It was the jungle. What else could I do? Infections are dangerous in the jungle." Not waiting for a response to that, she added, "Anyway, I started getting sick after that and don't remember much. Tomasso apparently encountered some fishermen and they brought us here. He rented a villa and took care of me while I was sick."

  "Yeah? And what were you sick with? Must have been something pretty bad if you couldn't even pick up a phone and call my cell to let me know you were okay so I could stop worrying. Right?" he asked bitterly, and then added, "Let me guess, the Italian version of jungle fever?"

  Abigail stiffened at the slam, her chin lifting as she told him, "Actually, it was dengue hemorrhagic fever, Jet." She let that sink in and then rushed on, "I nearly died, and would have if not for Tomasso. He took care of me through the whole thing, held my hair while I vomited. Put me in cold baths to bring down my crazy high fever. Tried to get me to eat broth and drink water so I didn't get dehydrated. He really took care of me," she said stiffly, and then added, "This is the first time I've been out of bed, let alone out of the villa since we got here. We came down to have dinner with Tomasso's family, then went for a walk on the beach where we encountered you."

  She swallowed, and then added, "And Tomasso contacted his family about you when he was able to get ahold of them. I'd explained that you weren't with the kidnappers and he knew I was worried about you, so he had them try to find out what happened and where you were. I already knew that you'd landed in Puerto Rico and searched there before flying to Puerto Plata to search along the coast here. They've been trying to track you down to let you know I was okay . . . Because Tomasso asked them to. Because he knew I would be worried when I woke up from nearly dying."

  Abigail almost felt bad for throwing that last part in. She had almost died, but had already said as much and repeating it had merely been a slap at Jet for his Italian jungle fever bit. Which probably only hurt because there was a grain of truth in the insult. She had worried about Jet, but not as much as she felt she should have. She'd also been easily distracted by Tomasso's leafy loincloth . . . among other things. And Jet hadn't been the first thing on her mind when she'd woken up from being turned either. Or even the second or third. Abigail still felt guilty about that, but thought perhaps she'd gone too far, because Jet squinted at her briefly, frowning, and then he stood and walked away.

  Mouth dropping open, Abigail gaped after him, but he only walked as far as the nearest of the tiki torches stuck in the sand along the sides of the patio. The nearest one was a good fifteen feet away. Jet pulled it out of the sand, carried it back and stabbed it into the sand next to their table and then turned to survey the two of them. His gaze slid over Tomasso first, taking in his tied-back hair and dress clothes and no doubt comparing that to the naked wild man he'd spotted in the display screen on his plane. After a moment though, his gaze then slid on to her and he froze, shock crossing his face.

  "Jesus, Abs. You're so pale. And you're half your size," he exclaimed with dismay.

  "Not quite half," Abigail muttered with embarrassment and then shrugged. "I was pretty sick."

  "You must have been deathly ill," Jet muttered, and then all of the anger slid out of him and he sank back in his seat. "Ah, hell, I'm sorry, Abs. I've just been worried sick. I've been looking everywhere for you, scared the whole time that you were dead and it was all my fault for taking you on that flight." Running a hand through his hair, he added, "And then I had to tell Bob what happened to explain why I wasn't returning his damned plane, and he fired me. Threatened to have me charged with theft if I didn't return the plane at once. But I couldn't just leave without finding you."

  Peering down into his drink, he muttered, "And then here I was tonight, facing being jobless and arrested and probably never getting another job because I'd have a record . . ." Grimacing, he let his gaze slide over her in the pretty sundress and finished, "And then I hear your voice and find you enjoying a romantic little walk on the beach with some guy seemingly without a care in the world."

  Abigail wasn't sure if he was done or had just run out of breath, but she stood up and hugged him where he sat. The chairs around the tables were bar stool height, so even with her standing and Jet sitting, he was still a head taller than her. It was automatic for her head to nestle right into his neck.

  Jet hugged her back fiercely. "You know I love you, Abs. You've been like a sister and my best friend since we were kids. I'm sorry I said those things."

  "I know," Abigail murmured, finding herself inhaling his scent. How had she never noticed that Jet smelled so nice? she wondered. Really. He smelled good, Abigail thought and nearly nuzzled his neck, but then caught herself and stepped back with a confused frown. She'd never wanted to nuzzle Jet before. What the hell was going on?

  Abigail glanced guiltily to Tomasso as she reclaimed her seat and noted that while he hadn't growled, he was watching her closely, his body tense as if prepared to spring into action.

  "Man," Jet muttered, rubbing a hand down his face and shaking his head. "Screw my boss. You're alive. You survived head trauma while jumping out of a plane, and then dengue fever and being stranded on a deserted beach. And I found you. It's all good."

  "Better than you think."

  Abigail glanced around at that comment
to see Lucian, Justin, Dante and Mary seated at the table behind them. She blinked in surprise. "When did you get here?"

  "Shortly after you," Mary explained apologetically. "We saw the three of you coming in here as we left the restaurant. We didn't want to intrude, but with the kidnappers still out there somewhere, and your friend, Jet--" she smiled and nodded to him "--not yet tracked down, Lucian thought it would be best if we followed. We didn't want to intrude though, so we sat here."

  "Oh," Abigail murmured, then glanced to Jet and smiled reassuringly, although she wasn't at all sure she shouldn't be telling him to run. "This is Tomasso's brother Dante, and his partner Mary," she said, introducing the couple closest, then gestured to the two men on the opposite side of the table. "And that is Lucian Argeneau and Justin Bricker."

  "A pleasure," Jet said with a small nod and then glanced to Abigail uncertainly, before turning back to the others and suggesting, "Why don't y'all come sit with us? Or we could push the tables together. There's no sense sitting apart if y'all are together."

  Mary, Dante, and Justin all looked to Lucian, Abigail noted with irritation. She wasn't surprised when he was the one who answered, but he didn't address Jet. Instead, his eyes shifted to Tomasso.

  "Take Abigail back to the villa. She's still recovering and needs her . . . medicine," he said cryptically, and then added, "Dante, Mary, and Justin will accompany you in case your kidnappers have also tracked the two of you down."

  When Abigail frowned and glanced to Jet, Lucian added, "Mr. Lassiter will stay with me. We have business to discuss."

  Abigail scowled at the high-handed man, then turned back to Jet. "You don't have to stay with him if you don't want. Come back to the villa with us."

  Jet hesitated, his eyes suddenly caught on her mouth with confusion, and then his expression went blank and he stood. He then turned and moved to settle in the seat across from Lucian as Dante left it.

  Abigail eyed him with concern, and then turned on Lucian. "What did you--?"

  "He is safer with me than you just now," Lucian said.