by Lynsay Sands
Cursing under her breath, Abigail dropped to her knees and dragged her backpack closer to search it again, this time with the flashlight to aid her. Even with the light, though, she couldn't find her phone. What the hell had she done with it? she wondered frantically, then gasped and tumbled forward as the plane suddenly put on speed and surged forward.
Shit! They were taking off, she thought with alarm. Grabbing at the bars beside her, she tried to brace herself to keep from sliding along the floor of the plane as they picked up speed, but her mind was now screeching in panic. Once they were in the air, they were on their own with the two men who had kidnapped the fellow in the cage beside her . . . and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. This so wasn't good.
Abigail stayed where she was, holding on to the cage bars until long after the plane had left the ground. She waited until they'd reached the point when the plane leveled out and steadied before daring to move, and then she merely released the bar she'd been clutching with her left hand and eased carefully into a sitting position. She still grasped the flashlight in her right hand and rested it on her legs, her eyes absently following the beam of light to the naked man next to her.
His skin was a nice olive tone, the fine hairs on his behind a dark brown or black, she noted absently. Then, realizing how rude she was being letting the light remain there, she quickly shifted it away.
Sighing, Abigail dragged her backpack closer and opened it again for one more search. If she could get a text to Jet, there was still a chance he could turn the plane around, land it, and get help to them before it was too late. He could claim engine trouble or something, couldn't he?
When this third search didn't turn up her phone, Abigail decided she must have lost it somewhere between the bar and here, and pushed her backpack away with frustration. She then sat back to try to think what to do. She had no idea if the clients were carrying weapons, but suspected they probably were. The checkin to board the cargo plane hadn't seemed very strenuous to her. She hadn't been subjected to a search of any kind. Perhaps that was just because she was with the pilot, but there hadn't been metal detectors or anything that she'd seen.
That reminded her, when they'd got to the hangar before the clients, Jet had commented that they were probably held up by customs checking their cargo, so how the hell had these men got a caged, unconscious man through customs? The only answer seemed to her to be that they must have paid someone off, and she supposed if they'd paid someone to let them bring a caged unconscious man through, guns would hardly be a concern. Both men could be carrying machine guns for all she knew.
Her gaze shifted to the cage again, and Abigail moved the flashlight beam over its inhabitant once more. The client had said something about his waking up and causing a ruckus on "the doc's plane." It seemed that was why this was an "emergency run." Their plane hadn't broken down. This man had apparently woken up and wreaked havoc in it before they'd managed to subdue him. She wasn't quite sure what that could mean. What kind of damage did you have to do to ground a plane?
Whatever it was, she didn't want him to do it now while they were in the air. If he was as strong as he looked, though, he would definitely come in handy when they landed.
Shifting to her feet before she could think about this too long and hard, Abigail walked around to the front of the cage and dragged the tarp off. She then shone the light on the cage door. She was a bit surprised to see that it didn't have a lock on it, just a standard sliding bolt that he could have unlocked himself were he awake. But then he wasn't awake, and wouldn't be so long as the IV the client had mentioned was in his arm. At least, she assumed it was in his arm. Abigail shifted the flashlight beam to the man inside.
His front was now on display to her, but there still wasn't much to see. An IV bag hung from the upper bars of the cage, a tube running down and disappearing under the man's arm which lay across his chest, blocking most of it from her view. That was a shame, she decided. It looked like he probably had an amazing chest and she would have liked to see it. She would have liked to see his face too, but his hair covered it completely. Likewise, his one leg was bent and lay forward, completely covering his genital area and hiding that from view as well.
"Thank goodness for that," Abigail muttered, but even she could hear the lack of sincerity in the words. It had been a long time since she'd even said the word date, let alone been on one, and she apparently wasn't above gawking at a helpless man's junk.
Clucking her tongue with disgust at herself, Abigail slid back the bolt and opened the cage door, then crouched to enter and approach the man. If he'd caused a ruckus the last time he'd woken up, he could do it again when they were safely on the ground. She just had to take the IV out . . . and hope he woke up before they landed. He obviously hadn't managed to gain his freedom the last time in "the doc's" plane, but he'd been alone then, she thought. This time he had her and Jet to help.
Abigail was short, but still had to move on her hands and knees inside the cage. It made carrying the flashlight hard, so she set it to the side, shining on the man she was approaching. She then crawled up to him and lifted the arm that lay across his chest to find the arm beneath it.
As she'd assumed, it was the one with the IV attached, although attached didn't quite describe it. Duct tape was definitely what she'd heard when the client was in here. The man's arm was wrapped in the gray stuff from just above his elbow, all the way down to his wrist.
Definitely overkill, she decided. And it was going to hurt like a bitch when it was taken off. Probably best to remove it all while he was unconscious, Abigail thought next. It might take a little time, but that would be the kindest route. Besides, they probably had the time. They couldn't risk doing anything while they were in the air anyway. The last thing she wanted was a crash landing because Jet got hurt or shot in their attempt to overcome the clients.
Settling to sit cross-legged beside the unconscious man, Abigail pulled his arm forward as much as she could and set to work. It took a lot longer than she'd expected. The client must have used an entire roll of duct tape on the man. She seemed to spend forever just unwinding tape round and round his arm. A knife would have come in handy, and Abigail even stopped at one point and did a quick search of the cargo hold for one, but while she found the third flashlight, what she thought might be a parachute, and even a first aid kit, there hadn't been a handy dandy knife anywhere.
She'd got excited when she'd found the first aid kit, thinking correctly that it might have a pair of those tiny scissors to cut gauze or something. But even as she'd found them she'd known they would be no help. The scissors were not only tiny, they were flimsy, fit only for cutting gauze. There was no way they would cut through the duct tape. Setting the first aid kit back, she'd returned to the cage to continue unraveling the duct tape from around the unconscious man's arm.
Abigail worked steadily until she got down to the last layer. That was the one that was going to hurt. It was going to snatch the man's arm bald and there wasn't a darned thing she could do about it.
Going slow might save some of the hair, she supposed, and grasped the piece of tape up past his elbow to begin slowly pulling it off. Abigail watched the skin and hair cling to the tape and winced, glad the man was unconscious when the skin released but the hair didn't and was torn out almost one strand at a time. The IV line stuck to the tape as well and pulled up a bit before she grasped it and pulled it free to lie against his arm again. Abigail had no desire to dislodge the IV before she finished this task. She doubted the man would wake right away once the IV was removed, but she wasn't taking any chances.
She only realized that the IV line had already been dislodged when liquid began to drip out between the tape strips. Either the line had separated from the needle apparatus, or the needle had been pulled from his arm. Whatever the case, he was no longer receiving the drug. Wondering how long he would stay under now, Abigail began to work more quickly, then gasped in shock when his body suddenly uncoiled like a
snake and he half sat up, his free hand suddenly at her throat and squeezing.
Releasing the tape she'd been trying to remove, Abigail grabbed for his hands, trying to pull them away so she could breathe again, but even half-baked from the drugs the man was incredibly strong. And he was definitely feeling the effects of the drug. Even as she struggled to free herself and find air, some part of her noted the dazed look in his beautiful black eyes . . . eyes that were presently focused on her face as if she were the only woman in the world. Which she was in that moment, Abigail supposed. Or at least in that cargo hold.
Just when Abigail thought she would pass out from lack of air, and probably follow that up by dying, the hold on her throat eased. In the next moment his hand fell away altogether and the man slumped weakly back against the bars of his cage. His body appeared at rest, but his eyes were alive and now focused on her like lasers.
Gasping in great gulps of air, Abigail eyed him warily and began to shift backward toward the cage door.
"Who are you?"
She stopped at that question. His voice was husky and so deep and gravelly it was like hearing the earth move. Breathing under control now, Abigail swallowed and whispered, "Abs."
His eyebrows rose at that and he glanced down at his stomach and frowned. "What about them?"
Realizing he thought she was talking about his abs, she shook her head and smiled crookedly. "My name," she explained and then babbled, "It's really Abigail, but my friends call me Abs, or Abbey, but mostly Abs. At least Jethro does. I haven't seen much of my friends lately. He's the first one I've had the chance to meet up with since Mom died so I--"
"Who is this Jethro?"
Abigail blinked at the interruption. "He's my friend," she answered simply, glancing toward the door to the cockpit and suddenly worried that they might be heard. She couldn't hear voices from the front though, so hoped that meant they couldn't be heard from up there either.
"A boyfriend?" he asked, drawing her attention back again.
"Hell no," she said, surprise making her response more emphatic. Wrinkling her nose, she added, "Ewww. He's been my best friend since we were kids. He's like a brother to me. I could never think of him like that. It would be--"
"You are with the kidnappers?"
Abigail's eyebrows rose at the pained sound to the question. His expression matched it. He was obviously upset that she might be with the men who had put him in this cage, but then she couldn't blame him. He must be furious to find himself in this situation. She supposed she was lucky he hadn't choked her to death.
"No," she assured him quickly. "I'm rescuing you."
When one eyebrow rose dubiously on his forehead at that, Abigail scowled at him. "Well, I took the IV out, didn't I? At least I was working on it," she added with a grimace. "I was hoping to get the duct tape off before you woke so you wouldn't have to suffer--"
The words died in her throat as he suddenly reached down and tore the rest of the duct tape off in one quick jerk. As she'd feared, it took most of the hair on his arm with it. It looked to her like it took a six-inch-wide layer of skin off all the way around his arm as well, and she winced as she noted the raw red flesh left behind. He, however, showed no sign that it caused him pain. He merely tossed the tape aside with distaste and then sat up a little straighter.
The action left him completely on display. Not just his wide, beautiful chest, but his groin was now on show too, she noted, and then realizing that she was gaping at his family jewels like a fish out of water, Abigail forced her eyes back to his face and distracted herself by looking at that. He was a handsome man. His nose was straight and sharp, his cheekbones high, his mouth full and almost too sensuous for a man, and his eyes were a deep, dark midnight black with little silver flecks that almost seemed to glow in the beam from the flashlight. He presently had a five-o'clock shadow and Abigail wasn't much for facial hair, but even that was attractive on this man.
In truth, Abigail didn't think she'd ever seen a man quite so beautiful as this one, not even in movies or magazines. The pretty blonde barmaid at the country bar where she'd met Jet earlier would have trampled her friend in an effort to get to this fellow, she was sure. It made her glad they weren't at the bar.
"Where are we?"
Abigail watched his lips move as he asked the question and had the craziest urge to lick them. Damn, he was powerful pretty, she thought on a sigh. And she had been shut in for too damned long looking after her mother if just being in his presence made her want to jump the guy.
"Somewhere over the ocean would be my guess," she said finally. "We've only been in the air about--" Abigail paused to glance down at her wristwatch and was surprised to see how much time had passed when she pressed the button to light it up and saw the time. They'd been in the air almost two hours. Had she been that slow at working on his arm? Good Lord, she thought, but said aloud, "Two hours. We have to be out of the States and over the ocean by now. Probably somewhere over or near Havana or Cancun depending on Jet's flight pattern," she added.
He didn't gasp in surprise and ask how she could possibly know that, but she explained anyway. "It takes something like five hours to fly from San Antonio to Caracas. The Cayman Islands are about halfway there, and I'm pretty sure both Havana and Cancun would be half an hour or so before that. I was always really good at geography," she added, simply because his staring was making her nervous again and Abigail babbled when she was nervous. That's also why she continued talking.
"Most kids hated geography in my class, but I always wanted to travel so I researched maps and atlases and stuff, memorizing where places were."
He hadn't moved, at all. Abigail began to worry that the drug had done him some harm, but babbled on. "My mom always wanted to travel too. She wanted to go to one of those resorts on St. Lucia or the Cayman Islands. I promised her we'd go once she recovered. To keep her spirits up while she was going through chemo, we used to research those places and look up stuff like how long the flights were to get there, what the wildlife was like, what there was to see and so on . . ."
Still nothing. Was he even breathing? she wondered with a little concern.
"What's your name?" she asked abruptly. It was a good way to see if he was still alive and breathing and not just a corpse lounging in the corner staring at her with dead eyes. Besides, she simply couldn't keep thinking of him as the guy or fellow, and she wanted to know what his name was. She was guessing it would be something sexy like--
"Tomasso Notte."
Yeah, that was sexy, Abigail decided. At least it was the way he said it. It was also a relief that he was still alive, she thought, and considered him briefly. She'd noted that he had a bit of an accent before this, but now thought she had it pegged and asked, "Italian?"
Tomasso nodded, but didn't expand on the comment. He obviously wasn't the talkative type. And she wished he'd stop staring at her like that. She didn't think he'd taken his eyes off her face since they'd opened. Abigail supposed she shouldn't be surprised, there wasn't much else to look at, but it was the way he was looking at her that was making her a bit uncomfortable. He was focused on her like he was trying to cut through her head with his eyes or something.
Maybe he couldn't see her well in this light, she thought suddenly and glanced down to note that the flashlight beam was squarely on him where she'd left it. None of the light was really reaching her. It probably left her a slightly darker shadow in the darkness around them.
That thought was a bit reassuring and Abigail was just starting to relax when he suddenly announced, "I'm hungry."
It wasn't the words so much as his fixed stare on her that made her anxious when he said that. It gave her the distinct impression that he was considering her for his next meal. Telling herself she was being silly, Abigail forced a smile and scooted quickly backward out of the cage, saying, "I have a chocolate bar in my bag. I'll get it."
This time she was relieved when he didn't move or speak. Straightening outside the cage, Abigail scurr
ied around it to where she'd left her bag. She hadn't thought to bring the flashlight, but since it was pointed in this direction, she had no trouble seeing and quickly knelt to scoop it up. She straightened with it in hand and, now out of the light, began rifling blindly through it in search of the promised chocolate bar. Her hand had just closed over the bar when she felt heat along her back and a warm breath stirring her hair.
Abigail didn't have to look to know the man was right behind her. She could feel it in the goose bumps that had suddenly risen from the back of her neck, all the way down to the backs of her ankles.
"It's an Oh Henry bar," she babbled nervously. "I like nuts." Her words died on a squeak as his arms slid around her from behind, crossed at her waist and urged her back against him. Now the heat from his body seemed to be pouring into hers and warming her wherever they touched, her back, her bottom, the backs of her legs.
"I--" It was as far as she got before his hand rose to catch her chin and turn her face up and back so that he could kiss her.
Abigail's eyes widened incredulously as his mouth covered hers. This kind of thing just did not happen to her. Big, hunky, naked men just did not kiss her out of the blue. And damnnnnn, he was a good kisser, she thought faintly and felt her eyelids begin to droop closed as her body responded to the caress.
Realizing what she was doing, Abigail forced her eyes back open and tried to fight the excitement he was stirring to life within her, but his hands were moving now, sliding to her breasts and covering them through her clothes.
Abigail moaned into his mouth as he cupped and squeezed her hungry flesh, and found herself kissing him back. She hadn't intended to. She'd intended to fight the sensations rising up in her, but it was like trying to hold back high tide, or keeping the sun from rising. The man was stirring things in her that had been too long denied. Only the fact that he was a complete stranger and that her mother was now up in heaven, maybe able to see what she was up to, made her tear her mouth away and gasp desperately, "I thought you were hungry?"