AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I figured you were faking it,” she said.
Blane didn’t bother replying to that. “What’s your endgame here, Anne? I’m a US senator. As you said yourself, I can’t just disappear. And if you think I’m just going to let this go, then you have another thing coming. Unless you plan on killing me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That greatly depends on you. Turn over your assassin and we can have this business concluded with minimum fuss.”
“You’re on some quest for revenge? I didn’t know your brother, much less had him killed.”
“You’re lying.”
Blane huffed a laugh. “Why would I lie?”
“And why would I trust you?” Her lips were pressed in a thin line. “You lie for a living.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.” His voice was rife with contempt as he observed her.
“If you’d rather trade insults instead of ensuring your continued breathing, that’s up to you.”
She was as unemotional and flat as the most hardened SEAL he’d ever seen. It was unreal. Was this really the same woman who’d woken up screaming from nightmares just last night? Which was the real Anne?
“My brother was investigating you and the death of your uncle,” she continued. “He thought it wasn’t suicide. That you killed him. Then he’s supposedly mugged and shot. In the back. Only they didn’t take anything. And there was no struggle, no fight. He was assassinated, pure and simple. And you pulled that lever.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blane said. “I didn’t have anyone killed. Certainly not your brother.”
There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes and Blane leapt on it.
“If Smithson told you something, it’s a lie. He’s the one who lies for a living, Anne.”
Her cheeks flushed and her mouth opened, but she didn’t get the chance to speak. There was a massive sound, like an explosion, and the plane abruptly went into a nosedive. Anne was thrown off her feet, slamming against a bulkhead before crumpling to the floor.
The plane bounced around uncontrollably. Blane unbuckled himself and stood, bracing against the seat. He pulled his arms down and apart. The plastic of the zip tie bit into his flesh, then snapped. He got down on all fours, knowing that would be the best way to stay balanced as the plane buffeted everything inside. Glass shattered and dishes clattered in the galley. He crawled to Anne, not knowing if she was alive or dead. She wasn’t moving.
Bracing his boots against the metal that bolted the chairs, he was able to stay in enough of a fortified position to reach her, grabbing her leg just as the plane turned on its side. He caught her body as it fell toward him, snagging her around the waist. She was limp in his arms and now he saw the blood in her mouth.
Panic flooded him and he fought it back. He had to get to the cockpit and keep them both from crashing through the cabin like so much detritus. The human body was incredibly fragile and it wouldn’t take much to break either of their necks.
The descent of the plane helped as he was able to move forward to the cockpit relatively quickly, keeping Anne cushioned against his own body as much as possible. Her head lolled on her neck and she moaned. A flood of relief filled him. She was alive. He shouldn’t be relieved, she’d betrayed and kidnapped him, but it was what it was. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind.
The cockpit door wasn’t locked. It was a private plane, not an airline, and didn’t have to follow the stringent guidelines for security. It was the matter of a moment to get through the door. What met his eyes was disheartening but not surprising.
The single pilot was dead from what appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The gun in question lay on the floor underneath his lax right arm. Blane was sure that he’d heard an explosion and he guessed the pilot had set off the explosion at the back of the plane before taking his own life. Regardless, he had more important concerns at the moment than the hows and whys.
Working fast, he hefted Anne into the copilot’s seat and buckled her in. Then he hauled the pilot’s body out of his seat and took his place, pulling the seatbelt secure as the plane bounced again.
“Okay, it’s been a minute,” he muttered to himself, glancing over the controls. He knew how to fly but hadn’t had to use the skill for some time.
The controls were sluggish, and the rudder wasn’t responding at all. One engine was out, which explained the roll. Fighting against the yoke, he was able to pull up on their rapid descent. He searched for a place to put it down, but everything below him was thick forest. They were going for the trees. The best he could do was try to make sure they weren’t impaled through the windshield.
The ground rushed up to meet them much too quickly and Blane had the fleeting thought that this might be it. He might not walk away from this one.
Then he was bracing for impact as the underside of the plane brushed the tops of the trees below them. Anne screamed.
The sound of wood splintering and the shriek of tearing metal assaulted his ears. Instinctively, he flung an arm across Anne, though much good that would do. The glass fractured, spidering and obscuring his view. The plane’s velocity was slowing, held in check by the decades of forest growth.
A branch shot through the windshield and Blane instinctively turned aside, which was a fortuitous move since it stabbed into the leather of his seat right next to his head. He barely had time to register his luck before the plane came to an abrupt, jarring halt. If they hadn’t had seatbelts, they would’ve been flung through the glass.
The sudden silence after the noise was jarring. There was a steady hissing, but that was it. Blane’s ears felt the loss of noise, now searching for any sound to help survival. The creak of branches came to him, and he looked out the tiny side window.
They weren’t on the ground. They were at least fifty feet or more from the ground, held aloft by the trees. And from the creaking and groaning sounds, he didn’t know how much longer said trees would continue that hold.
