Crash Landing Read online

  But Sean wasn’t paying her to go exploring. They had one objective. Whether she approved or not, Deanna wasn’t sidetracking him.

  “I’ll look into it later,” he promised her. “Nothing matters more than finding that horse.”

  Deanna startled. She seemed so intent on solving this mystery it was like she’d forgotten he was still sitting there. Or was she just shocked that he’d dared to have an agenda that didn’t match her own?

  “You don’t think this could be related?” she challenged.

  “Maybe. But I don’t have time for chasing maybes.”

  Sean winced at the harshness of his tone, but he didn’t apologize. He had to make wise decisions.

  “It’s only an instinct,” she said. “But I think we need to get down there and take a look.”

  Her eyes were the gray green of the sky before a thunderstorm. He’d never had the luxury of studying the flecks of yellow or the dark rims of her pupils like this. They pleaded with him to agree with her.

  “Just give me the word, and I’ll take us down there.”

  He blinked himself back to sanity. Landing a plane seemed tricky enough, but on a mountainside, using a runway she thought might be there? No thanks.

  “Fools rush in,” he said.

  “No. Fools play it safe and miss out,” she countered.

  Sean crossed his arms. “Why would there be a runway up here? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Deanna nodded, “Exactly. Why? What if there are answers down there about your horse?”

  She broke eye contact. “What if this has something to do with your dad?”

  The question gut-punched him. The missing-person case was so cold Sheriff Johnson had stopped calling with updates years ago. After all this time, could there really be a clue? If he stopped Deanna from landing, would he get another chance to find out?

  She pointed down to the ground. “There, in that draw—can you see it?”

  He aimed the binoculars in the direction she indicated. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

  “Trust me, it’s hidden but it’s there,” she said. “Not a runway, necessarily, just a strip long enough to put a plane down.”

  He pointed the binoculars toward the meadow on the hillside and adjusted the focus. He saw the flattened, patchy grass. Then a quick flash of red between the trees caught his eye. At the edge of the meadow sat another airplane he’d never seen before. Someone was trespassing on his land.

  Chills ran up his back. If Deanna hadn’t pointed it out, he would never have seen it as anything other than a meadow.

  “Do it,” he said.

  “Hold on. I won’t see these landing conditions well. I’ll have to adjust as we go in.”

  Sean found the door handle for the second time and gripped it so hard he was surprised he didn’t rip it off. The buzzing motor changed pitch, and he braced himself for a rough landing.

  But Deanna was a skilled pilot and performed the landing more smoothly than he’d expected. The plane taxied, decelerating, and then the propeller’s spin slowed and stopped.

  Sean moved to exit the plane, but Deanna stopped him. “Wait.”

  He stared down at her hand, soft against his arm. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts before his face revealed whatever remained of his schoolboy crush. He’d gotten over it. Really. His feelings for her in high school had been a distraction. There wasn’t room in his life for distractions of any kind now.

  She reached across him to the glove box by his knees, opened the compartment and pulled out a Glock pistol.

  “Whoa.” He definitely hadn’t expected that. “Is that the nine or the .45?”

  “The nine. It has more rounds and it fits my hand better.”

  She slid the Glock into her waistband. “Just in case.” She covered it with her shirt and said, “Who knows who might be out there. Can’t be too careful.”

  What could he use to defend himself? He felt the weight of his pocket contents against his thigh. Just a cell phone and a survival knife. The cell tower had burned, so the phone was useless out here. The knife was his best hope, although he’d prefer a gun. “You wouldn’t happen to have two of those, would you?”

  She patted his forearm and winked. “Don’t worry, cowboy. I’ll protect you.”

  Sean snorted and then followed her out of the plane. The sharp smell of wildfire burned his nostrils, and the smoke made his eyes itch. The temperature had to be in the upper nineties, if not higher. These dry, hot conditions must be miserable for the fire crews.

  He hopped to the ground and looked around. He recognized where they were, of course—he’d been exploring this land from the time he could walk—but on his left stood a newly constructed storage shed he’d never seen before. When had that been built? There was no need for storage this far out.

  His neck hairs rose. “See anybody around?”

  “No. No one,” Deanna whispered. “Let’s check out the plane.”

  Sean stepped to follow her, but the sliding click, click of a shotgun shell chambering froze him in place.

  Then a voice behind him made a promise that sent ice through Sean’s veins. “Take one more step, and I’ll blow both your heads off.”

  TWO

  Deanna’s heart hammered against her sternum. This was her fault. She’d led Sean right into this trap, making it seem like she had his best interest at heart because she was curious. She’d even manipulated Sean with promises about his missing father. What kind of person did that?

  She owed it to Sean to figure out an escape. But how?

  The cool metal tucked into her waistband reminded her she had options. Her fingers twitched above her head. All she had to do was lower her hands, grab the gun and then point it at the creep behind them. Simple. That’s what the gun was for. She just couldn’t make herself move.

  “We’ll keep our hands up,” Sean said, “but we’re going to turn around now. Don’t shoot.”

  How could he be so calm? Deanna couldn’t think straight. She doubted she could even speak, but here was Sean telling this guy how it was going to be as if he were one of Sean’s hired hands.

  Without waiting for permission, Sean turned, keeping his hands high. Deanna hesitated for a beat and then followed his lead, brittle pine needles crunching under her boots as she turned. The shotgun’s barrel rose dead even with Sean’s head, making Deanna’s throat constrict. She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry.

  “Don’t move!” the guy behind the gun demanded. He sounded nervous. Scared enough to pull the trigger?

  “Easy,” she begged.

  He looked to be in his twenties, about the same age as Deanna and Sean, but it was clear he wasn’t local. He was dressed head to toe in baggy black clothes that were far too heavy for the hot weather. The muddy brown eyes under his bushy brows were hard, his mouth set in a menacing snarl. On his face was a lazy attempt at a goatee, nothing more than a thin mustache and a scraggly patch of hair on his chin.

  He was just a skinny city boy. Sean had three inches’ height on him and at least fifty more pounds of muscle. If they could disarm him somehow, Sean could take this guy.

  Sean didn’t seek out chances to prove his masculinity like some men she knew, but Deanna had seen him win a fight before. A couple of drunk, loudmouthed bullies had targeted Sean at Roundup two years ago. He’d been forced to defend himself, which he’d done swiftly and surely. They’d never messed with him again.

  Even staring down the barrel of a shotgun, Deanna felt safer having him next to her. Given the right opportunity and a fair fight, she was confident that Sean would win here, too. But even if they could take the shotgun out of the picture, this guy didn’t look like the type to fight fair. He seemed more of the street-fighter type. He’d probably make up for the differenc
e in size by pulling a switchblade out of those baggy clothes.

  Her eyes swept the area. They were trapped. The pilot and his gun blocked their direct path back to her plane, and there was no other escape route that she could see. If they turned and ran for the trees, he’d shoot them in the back. She wasn’t even sure if he was the only man out here.

  Her elbows bent slightly, and her hands lowered a few centimeters. Could she do it? How fast could she get the gun out of her waistband?

  “Hands up,” he commanded. She obeyed quickly, raising her arms as high as she could get them.

  Her gaze passed over the wooden shed next to the other plane. A lot of cargo could fit in there. More cargo than one plane could hold?

  “You’re the other pilot, right? Weren’t you expecting us?” It was a risk, but it felt right.

  She looked at Sean and tried to send him an unspoken message to follow her lead. The confused expression on his face dissipated as he caught on to the game she was playing.

  Sean cleared his throat. “Yeah. Didn’t anyone tell you we were coming?” His acting skills could use some work, but he’d joined her charade without missing a beat.

  “Who are you?” the pilot demanded, the tip of his gun wavering. “Pritchard never said nothing about another plane.”

  Deanna bit back the obvious question. Pritchard? She’d never heard the name before. Time to wing it again.

  “Well, he told us—” she amped up the annoyance in her voice “—that there’d be too much cargo for one plane. That you would need our help.”

  She flicked one of her raised hands in the direction of her Cessna. “We’re supposed to help you transport.”

  The gun’s tip relaxed slightly. Was he buying it?

  “You didn’t think we landed for a picnic, did you?” she said.

  Deanna blinked rapidly. The sweat she couldn’t wipe away stung her eyes. She arranged her face into what she hoped was a confident expression. This guy couldn’t see fear on her face or he’d see right through her act.

  Indecision danced across his features, but something else—something possessive and dark—dawned in his eyes, taking its place. His gaze traveled from Deanna’s head to her feet as if he were seeing her for the first time. Heat filled her cheeks. Every part of her begged her to run from this predator, but she couldn’t.

  He stepped closer to Deanna, and a hissing sound escaped from Sean. Sean took a step forward. The guy waved the shotgun back at Sean’s face.

  “Get back!”

  Deanna wouldn’t want to be alone with a guy like this, but she needed to use the attraction to her advantage before Sean’s cowboy code of honor got them both shot.

  She added sweetness to her voice. “While we wait, can we put our arms down? Please? They’re killing me.”

  He shuffled his feet and lowered the gun another centimeter. “Yeah. Fine. Put them down, but don’t move until someone gets out here to tell me what’s going on.”

  He locked eyes with Sean, his mouth lifting in a cocky half smile. “I’ve shot a man before. I’ll do it again if I need to.”

  Deanna froze, believing him. His eyes were so cold. He looked like a killer, like he’d follow through on that promise without a moment of guilt. She lowered her arms slowly, the gun against her stomach calling to her. I’m here—use me.

  There was nothing to make her care about this guy, but still, he was a human being with a beating heart. She’d prepared for scenarios like this—she’d bought the gun for self-defense—but facing a real flesh-and-blood threat made her second-guess herself. It made her imagine blood and death. Even if she could get the gun out, could she pull the trigger?

  Her questions took too long. Suddenly the pilot spun her, shoved the shotgun’s tip between her shoulder blades and frisked her. He had her pistol in his hands before she could react to stop him.

  “Hiding something?” he mocked, waving the gun in front of her face. Her fists clenched. He was too close, sharing too much of her air.

  “Like you’d be out here unarmed,” she snapped.

  Without the gun against her belly, she was small and vulnerable. And stupid. How could she have lost the gun? Her debt to Sean had just multiplied.

  “You armed?” the pilot asked Sean.

  “No.”

  “Right,” the man sneered. “Just like she wasn’t.”

  “I’m not armed,” Sean said.

  “Show me,” he commanded. “And don’t try anything. She isn’t too pretty to shoot.”

  Sean slowly lifted his T-shirt, revealing a tanned, muscular stomach but no gun. He repeated the process with his pant legs, lifting each side.

  “Take off your boots.”

  Sean obeyed, pulling off his boots and shaking them out. “I’m clean.”

  “Turn out your pockets.” Sean threw down a cell phone and a knife Deanna hadn’t known he had.

  The pilot kicked the knife and phone away. “Not armed, eh?”

  Sean shrugged. He put his boots back on and stood back up tall, never breaking eye contact. Deanna’s cheeks still burned. She’d had a gun, but she’d lost their ticket out of here by being too slow to act. She met Sean’s eyes and mouthed the words I’m sorry.

  The pilot pushed Deanna forward with the shotgun. “Walk to my plane.”

  When they arrived at the red Piper Arrow, he raised the shotgun to the back of her head. Deanna could feel the cold metal touching her scalp through her hair. She closed her eyes and refused to imagine the gory details of what would happen to her if that gun fired now.

  “Climb into the cockpit and grab the duct tape out of the glove compartment,” he directed Sean. The gun pushed harder against Deanna’s head, making her stagger forward a bit. “There’s two rolls. And don’t forget where I’ve got this gun pointed.”

  Sean nodded and climbed in, quickly locating the tape. When he hopped back to the ground, the pilot shoved Deanna hard toward the shed. “Get up against the wall.”

  “Hey!” Sean yelled, stepping toward Deanna. “Not so rough!”

  “Yeah, about that. Sorry about this, dude,” he said and then swung the shotgun like a baseball bat, connecting with the side of Sean’s head. The thwack of solid wood against Sean’s skull made Deanna’s knees buckle.

  “Sean!” she screamed. Reaching out, she caught his slumping body just in time. His weight knocked her to her knees, but she slowed his fall before he hit the ground.

  The pilot’s hands shoved her from behind, and Sean rolled from her arms.

  “On your stomach,” he ordered Deanna. “And stay there or you’re getting the same as he got.”

  * * *

  Sean couldn’t measure how much time passed. It could have been forever or maybe it was only seconds. Blackness condensed like a tunnel into a single point of light. He blinked his eyes, so confused. So very confused.

  A woman lay on her stomach in front of him. He knew her, didn’t he? Was he supposed to help her?

  He tried to stand but gravity pulled at him like a magnet. He wobbled on his knees, trying not to fall.

  “Stay down.”

  Rough hands shoved him back to the ground. A man was yelling at the girl.

  Deanna. That was her name. Sean really should try to fight back. Make that guy stop yelling at her. He would. Later. After he got his head right.

  No, now. Something was wrong. Deanna needed him.

  Sean struggled to stand again but his body wouldn’t obey. He had no more strength than a rag doll. The hands were on him again, pulling him into a seated position, pushing him against something. A dull pain throbbed against Sean’s temple. He closed his eyes. He just wanted to focus. If he could only process what was happening. That’s all he wanted. To stop being so confused.

  Eventually, the details began to fall into
place. He remembered he was with Deanna Jackson, that they had been flying. He remembered landing here and the swinging gun that had caught him by surprise. The fog was clearing from his brain but it was too late.

  The pilot had tied him up, and Sean couldn’t move.

  THREE

  The world swam in such a blur Sean quickly closed his eyes again. He tried to reach his hands up to hold his head, but his wrists were handcuffed and his arms pinned to his sides with tight duct tape. He moaned and fell sideways so he could lean against the shed wall.

  Something squirmed behind him. Sean shot back up fast, releasing another wave of intense vertigo. Deanna was behind him. They were bound back-to-back with the tape securely strapping them together across their torsos. He glanced down. His legs were bound, too, just above the ankles.

  “Sean? Are you awake?” Deanna sounded far away, her voice full of fear.

  He started to nod but decided it was best to keep his head still. “Yeah. What happened?”

  “All I had to do was reach for my gun. I had it right there but I panicked.” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

  His chest tightened. Deanna wasn’t the type to cry. Not being able to reach her to comfort her hurt worse than his head. “This is nothing, Dee. You’ve seen me get my bell rung worse than this riding bulls. This isn’t any different than those times. I’m already feeling better.”

  “But he used your head like a baseball.”

  The throbbing inside his skull agreed with her. “Maybe. But I’ll take a knock in the head over a gunshot wound any day. He didn’t like being outnumbered, but he must’ve bought your story or he would have just shot me. That was quick thinking.”

  Deanna felt so tiny leaning against his back. She was a petite woman, but it had never occurred to him to think of her as small. She’d always been the golden girl, larger than life in his eyes, and far beyond his reach. In high school, she’d been like a sun with a mass of people constantly orbiting around her.