Page 20 of Northern Escape


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“No offense, sweetheart, but in my experience, an alarm like that is never nothing.”

She shook her head. “It’s a bad gage. Has to be.”

She was good. Her voice gave away no hint of panic, but her white-knuckled grip on the yoke was singing a different tune. One that ended with crash landing in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

“What gage?” he asked.

“It says we’re low on fuel, but I filled up before we left. We have more than enough to get to Solitaire and back several times over. It’s a gage problem.”

“Okay, but does it say we have enough to reach Solitaire now?”

“No. But we do. I filled the tank myself.”

One of the dogs, sensing their owner’s distress, whined loudly. Ellis reached back smoothed a hand down the back of the closest dog, the black and white one, Diggy. The anxious pup leaned into his caress and he wondered who took the most comfort from that—him or the dog? “Are you sure you want to risk it withthemon the plane?”

Bree glanced back, then squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She cursed a blue streak and opened her eyes. “No, I don’t.”

“Then look for a place to land.” He unfastened his seatbelt and climbed into the back.

“Wait. What are you doing?”

“Making sure the dogs are secure in case we land rough.”

She glanced back, dark eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you. There are harnesses—”

She didn’t have to finish. He spotted the dog harnesses in the pile of gear. “Got ‘em.” He started securing each dog to the metal loops lining the floor.

When he straightened, he noticed the ground coming up a lot faster than he was comfortable with. And the engine was sputtering.

He climbed back into his seat and pulled the belt tight across his hips. “We okay?”

“We’re out of fuel.”

“So not a bad gage?”

“It’s okay. It’ll be fine. I’m gliding us down.” She said it like he'd asked her the day of the week, all matter of fact. Had to admire the woman. She had guts.

Guts that were very likely about to end up splattered across the snow in the next few minutes.

Ellis had jumped out of a plane before. He'd seen the ground rushing up too fast. Felt the wind ripping the air from his lungs. Saw his life flash before his eyes as adrenaline splashed through his system. Only difference was he'd had a parachute attached to his back and he wasn't in a tin can with a dead engine.

He never knew silence could sound so much like the Grim Reaper until that moment.

“Uh, Bree? You know what you’re doing?”

“I practiced dead-stick landings with your dad.” She risked a glance over at him. “He taught me to fly.”

Why that news hit like a punch, he couldn’t say. He’d had to teach himself to drive and yet Dad had taught this woman how tofly.

Of course, they weren’t flying right now. They were crashing. Gracefully, but still.

He gripped the edges of his seat. “Lots of trees down there. And rocks.”

“I’m aware. There should be a lake— there.” She pointed to the flat expanse of snow ahead of them. “That’s our runway.”

“Is this a seaplane?” He didn’t think so. He didn’t remember seeing floats.

“Won’t matter. It’s frozen solid this time of year.”

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