Crash Landing

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 difference 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.

This small, sad voice wasn’t hers. He wanted to squeeze her hand, but he couldn’t reach it.

Sean swallowed. He needed to ask her something, but it was hard to spit out the words. Probably because he was afraid of the answer. They came out just above a whisper. “Deanna, did that guy hurt you?”

He steeled himself.

“No. I’m okay. I think he’s waiting for others to show up to tell him whether or not we are who we say we are before he does anything to us.”

Sean released the breath he’d held. Thank God. “See, you bought us time. That’s good. Where’d he go?”

“He got bored, so he’s rummaging through my plane.”

Sean squinted toward the Cessna. “He’ll be back soon.”

“What do you think he’s doing up here, anyway? And who’s that Pritchard guy he mentioned?”

“I don’t know,” Sean admitted. “I’d guess he’s meeting someone and whoever it is, they won’t be happy to see us. This might be our only chance to get away.”

“I agree, but how?” Deanna asked.

Sean flexed his chest. The tape didn’t give at all. “We’ve got to get our hands free first. I’m going to lean forward and try to chew the tape loose around my wrists,” he said. “Can you roll onto my back while I roll forward?”

They maneuvered in sync, Sean bending in half at the waist and Deanna arching backward onto the heels of her boots. Barely reaching his wrists, Sean bit at the gray tape but it was bound several times around and was too thick to chew through. He’d break through eventually, but it would take too long. He sat up slowly, easing Deanna back down behind him.

“I need something to saw with,” he said.

And to stop being so dizzy. That would help.

He reached for a stick, but it was so far out of reach he almost knocked them both onto their sides trying to stretch to it. This wasn’t working. He needed a plan, but it was still hard to think straight. Man, his head hurt.

Sean’s back was warm where Deanna leaned against him. The pilot might not have hurt her yet, but there was no denying that hungry look Sean had seen in his eyes. He would hurt her if he got a chance. Sean needed to get her to safety, but he couldn’t move.

Defeated by a city boy and a roll of duct tape. It was humiliating.

He pulled hard against the tape again, but it didn’t loosen any more than it had the last time. He closed his eyes. God, I don’t know what to do. Show me how to get her out of here.

“Got any ideas?” he asked Deanna.

Her head rocked against his back. “No. But I think you’re right—we need to get our hands free first.”

Sean stared at his feet. Maybe he could rub his wrists against the edges of his cowboy boots and break the tape. But that would be as slow as trying to chew through it.

“Wait.” Sean sat up straight. “What kind of boots are you wearing?”

“Ropers.”

“Lace-ups?”

“Yeah, why?”

He had an idea, and it just might work. “If you lean forward, could you reach your laces?”

“Probably.”

Her laces should be thick enough to get some good friction. “Unlace one just enough to get it up to your mouth. If you can bite down on it and pull it tight enough, it’ll give you something to saw against the tape. Can you do it?”

“I’ll try.” She folded over in half and followed his instructions. He tried to keep his weight off her. “Got it,” she mumbled. She sat up and he rolled back.

“Okay, now, keep it really tight.”

The desire to be free pulsed through him. It was so hard to sit still, to be helpless like this. He could feel the rocking motion behind him as Deanna slid her wrist up and down the bootlace. “You gotta hurry.”

“Almost got it,” she said. There was a manic tone to her voice. Her enthusiasm was contagious. “It worked! My hands are loose!”

“Good,” he said. “Now your ankles.”

“There!”

The sound of ripping duct tape that hit his ears might possibly have been the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. His idea was working. He could almost taste freedom. But in the distance, the pilot jumped down from the plane.

“He’s coming, Deanna. You’ve got to hustle.”

“Almost done...”

Hurry!

And then he felt it. The tape around their torsos was loosening. He reached for Deanna and covered her hand, stopping her before she got too zealous ripping the tape off them. “Wait. Go really slow. We need him to think we’re still tied up.”

They helped each other pull it off as nonchalantly as possible. When they got it all off, Sean mashed the spent tape into a ball. They were free.

“For this to work, we’ve got to surprise him,” he said. “I’ll jump him as soon as he’s close enough.”

“He’s still got the shotgun,” Deanna said. “And he’s got my pistol and your knife.”

“What else can I do? If we go running now, he’ll shoot us for sure. And if we wait any longer, whoever he’s working with will get here and he’ll know we were lying. Either way, we end up shot.”

Knowing they were actually free and still not being able to act on it was its own form of torture. Sean kept his eyes on the man ambling toward them, trying to calculate when he should make his move. How close should he let the other guy get before he attacked?

Somehow Sean would need to leap from a sitting position and strike before the guy could raise his shotgun and shoot. Or worse, grab the knife and stab Sean. He shuddered. Knives were ugly business.

Deanna’s breaths were shallow and getting more frequent behind him. His fingers found hers behind him, and he squeezed. The blurry vision, the pain in his head, it would all have to be ignored. He was getting Deanna out of here. Impossible odds or not.

“Get ready,” he whispered.

With each step the guy took toward him, Sean prepared to jump. The pilot was getting closer to them. Could he see the tape was gone yet? Sean forced himself to relax, to look bored. Just a little bit closer, closer. Now!

Sean sprang from his spot, scrambling to get his body upright fast enough to have an advantage. Diving forward, he tackled the pilot like he would a calf for branding. They hit the ground hard.

Sean was on top. He’d had the element of surprise he wanted, but the pilot was scrappy and strong and recovered quickly.

The gun fired, the blast ringing in Sean’s ears, but he wasn’t too deaf to hear Deanna screaming. Was she hit?

His heart pounded as he wrestled and grappled with the man struggling beneath him. Sean fought to keep the shotgun pinned to the ground without letting the man slip out from under him. He ducked to avoid a head butt, and the pilot’s head connected with his shoulder instead. Sean needed to gain control of the shotgun before he got his face blown off. He shoved his right forearm across the pilot’s neck, pressing hard on his windpipe. The man’s face was purple, but he hadn’t stopped fighting.

Sean caught sight of Deanna in his peripheral vision. “Run for the plane,” he panted.

“Not without you!”

Her arms raised above her head and he saw she held a large stone. She dropped her hands fast and crack. Sean winced at the sound of stone against skull, but she’d done it. The fight was over instantly as the pilot’s writhing body went completely slack.

* * *

Bile burned Deanna’s throat. She covered her face with her hands, hearing again that horrible sound. Had she killed him?

Sean’s larger hands covered hers. They were warm and gentle as he peeled her hands away from her face. He placed the pistol she’d lost into her right palm. Then he closed her fingers around it. She kept her eyes squeezed shut. If she’d just killed that guy, she didn’t want to see it.

“You did the right thing,” Sean said, his voice kind. “I need you to open your eyes so you can help me with him before he wakes up.”

Her eyes popped open. “He’s not dead?”

Sean chuckled. “No. He’ll have a nasty headache, but he’s alive.” Sean rubbed his own head. “For some reason, I don’t feel much sympathy. Can you do something to ground his plane? I don’t want him flying away before I can get the sheriff out here.”

“I’ll need your knife.”

Sean knelt beside the groaning man and retrieved his knife and his cell phone. “Hurts, doesn’t it, buddy?” Then he handed Deanna the knife and said, “Make sure he’s stuck here.”

As Sean worked on tying up the pilot with the remaining duct tape, Deanna jogged for the Arrow. First she punctured each tire with Sean’s knife. Even on a paved runway, a pilot would need tires to take off. Without them, on this uneven ground and grass, takeoff would be impossible. But just to make sure he was truly grounded, she located the magneto line to the engine and sliced it at each end, then pocketed the cable. She surveyed her work. Satisfied, she rejoined Sean.

“That will have to do for now,” he said, tossing the empty tape roll against the shed. “It’s not tight enough but we’re out of tape.”

“Well, even if he gets out of the tape, I guarantee that airplane of his isn’t going anywhere soon.”

“Good work,” Sean said, then returned to searching the pilot. “Let’s see what we can find out about our friend here.”

“That he’s up to no good?” Deanna scoffed.

Sean pulled out a wallet and then an ID card. “Hmm... Nathan Reid from...” Sean looked again at the card. “Nathan Reid from Vancouver.”

He tossed the wallet on the ground but pocketed the card. “Here you go, dude.” he said. “I’ll keep your ID so I can bring Sheriff Johnson a little souvenir.” Then he grabbed the hard-won shotgun and stood up.

“He’s Canadian?” Deanna asked.

Sean nodded. “You’re a little south of your border, Nathan. What are you doing trespassing on my land?” The pilot said nothing.

A twig snapped somewhere in the distance, and Deanna jumped, her eyes scanning the meadow.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, stepping in the direction of her plane, but Sean held back.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Sean’s jaw twitched. “I can’t leave until I get some answers.”

The hovering shroud of smoky haze contributed to the scary-movie feel, and Deanna’s unease was growing by the second.

“Let’s go,” she begged. “He’s coming to, and he said he was meeting people here.”

“That’s the problem,” Sean said, pointing at the plane. “I still don’t know what they are up to or who else is involved. It’s like you said in the air—this is my land and I should know what’s happening on it.”

Without waiting for her okay, Sean turned and walked back toward the shed.

“This is nuts!” She fumed, but she jogged after him.

“As nuts as landing in the first place?” he called over his shoulder. “Weren’t you the one who promised me some answers?”