Off the Grid Christmas Page 4

  But...

  She didn’t fly.

  She’d have to run, and she’d have to hope that Kane was intelligent enough to stick with his escape plan.

  “Don’t worry,” Kane said quietly. “I’ve got your pack.”

  She swung toward him.

  She’d forgotten that she’d slipped out of the pack. That wasn’t like her. Hesitating wasn’t her style, either. She always had a plan. She always followed through on it, and she almost never forgot anything.

  Especially not something as important as that pack.

  “I’ll take it,” she said, rushing around the front of the Tahoe to where he was waiting and grabbing one of the straps.

  “We’re wasting time. I’ve got it. You want what’s in it, you’ll have to come with me.” He walked away, his strides long and purposeful.

  Arden needed that backpack. More precisely, she needed what was inside it. Her laptop. She had, of course, hidden away a second copy of the files for safekeeping, but that laptop contained days of work. In fact, she knew she was close to breaking the encryption wrapped around the files. She couldn’t afford to lose all that work. Starting over was not a scenario she wanted to entertain.

  “Let’s be reasonable about this, Kane,” she said.

  “If by reasonable you mean we work together to solve your problem, I’m all for it,” he responded, stepping into the hangar, his duffel slung over his shoulder, her pack still in his hand.

  She had no choice but to follow him right into the belly of the beast.

  At least, that’s what it felt like when she saw the little tin coffins disguised as airplanes lined up and ready for takeoff.

  She felt sick, the thought of getting on a plane and flying into the snowy night making her light-headed.

  “You’re better than this,” she muttered, annoyed with her own weakness.

  “What’s that?” Kane glanced over his shoulder as he reached the front of the line of planes.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I am that I am about to die,” she responded.

  He either didn’t hear or he ignored her.

  “We’re in front of the queue. That’s the good news.”

  “What’s the bad news?” she asked, eyeing her pack and wondering how tightly he was gripping it.

  “We’re running out of time. Come on. Let’s get on board.”

  * * *

  The large aluminum hangar door was already open, the Cessna Skyhawk ready to go, having been kept inside the bay to keep ice and snow from accumulating before takeoff. No sign of the dispatcher, but Kane wasn’t going to let that slow him down.

  He stepped back and took Arden’s arm, ignoring the tension in her muscles and the paleness of her face.

  “You ready to take off?” someone called.

  He turned, watching as the dispatcher walked toward him, a sub sandwich in one hand, clipboard in the other.

  “No,” Arden responded.

  “Yes,” Kane corrected.

  “Good. Good. You leave now and you’ll beat the storm. Otherwise, you’ll probably be stuck here for the night.”

  “That won’t work for us,” Kane said, with a sense of urgency. “My friend’s ex is hot on our heels. I need to get her out of here quickly.”

  The man nodded his head. “Understood, no problem. Go ahead and load up. I’ll contact the tower and tell them you’re waiting to be cleared for takeoff.” He rushed to his desk, taking a bite of sandwich along the way. Once he’d settled into his chair, he turned to his computer and began typing.

  Kane pulled Arden the remaining short distance across the hangar’s concrete floor to his plane. There was no sign of the sedan through the open bay doors, but he was certain it would be only a matter of minutes before it would reach the airfield. They needed to be on the plane and on their way before then. “Let’s go,” he said, sidestepping one of the main wheels and tossing her pack and his duffel onto the rear bench seat of the plane.

  Arden stopped short, planting her feet. “Go on without me. I’ll find a place to hide.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Yeah. It is.” She darted away, but he’d anticipated the move and snagged her arm, then, in deference to the cat still hiding under her coat, in one quick motion he hefted her into his arms like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. He could feel her trembling. This was no joke. She was terrified, and for about two seconds, he thought about finding another way.

  Unfortunately, doing that would probably get them both killed. It would more than likely get the guy with the sandwich killed, too.

  Kane wasn’t in a dying kind of mood, and he sure didn’t need any more innocent blood on his hands. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. It’d been thirteen years since Evan Kramer had died in his arms and he could still remember the sticky slickness of his second cousin’s blood on his hands, the harsh rasp of lungs as he gasped his last breath. A moment in time, a lifetime of regret.

  He hoisted Arden up through the open doorway. She was lighter than he expected and, despite her struggling, he still managed to set her down gently on the floor of the plane’s cargo area before jumping in after her. Forcing her to do something that obviously terrified her made him feel like the worst kind of jerk, even if his options were less than limited.

  “Get out of your coat, and get that carrier off your chest.”

  Stooping in the threshold of the plane’s open door, Kane yelled out, catching the dispatcher’s attention once more. “We don’t want to bring any trouble down on you, but her ex is dangerous. Be on the alert.”

  “Got it. I’ll lock it down after you leave. And your return flight plan’s been approved by air traffic control, so you’re good to go. Let’s get you out of here before he shows up.”

  Kane yanked the plane’s door shut; the hatch clicked in place as he locked it. When he turned back, Arden was still rooted to the same spot. He quickly unzipped her coat, dropping it on the bench seat with their bags, then helped her remove the carrier from her chest. Cradling the cat in his left arm, he guided her to the front passenger seat, gently pushed her into it and strapped her in with the safety harness. Arden remained quiet as he set the cat’s carrier in her lap and wove the lap belt through the blue carrier straps to secure the animal.

  Her silence was disconcerting.

  She hadn’t been at a loss for words since he’d found her at the cottage. The fact that she wasn’t talking now was something he’d worry about after he got them in the air.

  He stowed Arden’s pack and his duffel behind the bench seat, retrieved her jacket and draped it over her lap and chest. She’d closed her eyes and was breathing deeply, mumbling something he couldn’t hear.

  That was better than silence, but it still wasn’t good.

  Being ten thousand feet in the air with a woman in full-out panic wasn’t much better than being on the ground with a couple of thugs who wanted them dead.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, dropping into the pilot seat and starting the engine.

  “I told you, I don’t fly,” she responded, her eyes still tightly shut.

  At least she was talking and coherent.

  “You do now.” He checked the flaps and instrument control panels then pulled the safety harness over his shoulders.

  “Oh Christmas tree, oh Christ-mas-tree,” she sang, her voice high-pitched and a little off-key.

  Maybe she wasn’t coherent after all.

  “Arden?” He touched her shoulder. Her muscles were taut, her entire body tense.

  “Thy leaves are so un-change-ing,” she continued. Her voice warbled on the last note, but she kept right on singing. “Oh Christmas—”

  “Arden? Are you going to b
e able to keep it together?”

  “I am trying to get to my happy place.” Her eyes flew open, and he was looking straight into her sky-blue irises. “You are making it very difficult.”

  “Your happy place is Christmas?”

  “It sure isn’t this dinky tin can that you plan to fly us out in.” She closed her eyes again, continuing her song. “Not only green when sum-mer’s here...”

  She hit the last note and the cat yowled, joining the song with earsplitting intensity.

  At least neither was trying to claw a way out.

  He guided the plane out of the hangar, radioing the dispatcher for permission to take off. They began taxiing down the runway. With this load, the plane required about eight hundred feet of runway for takeoff. Maybe a little less if the conditions were perfect.

  Tonight, the wind was blowing, a light mix of sleet and snow splattering the windshield.

  In the distance, the sedan sped through the airfield gates, then veered toward them, high beams on, picking up speed as it approached. He could only hope they’d beat it down the runway. The plane picked up speed. Six hundred feet. Seven hundred. Kane pulled back on the controls just as the sedan reached the runway. It stopped and the doors flew open.

  But Kane was past them, the wheels lifting from asphalt, the plane soaring into the sky. Below, the men were firing. The distinctive metallic pings as several bullets pierced the plane’s fuselage left no doubt that some of the rounds had hit their mark.

  “Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, such pleasure do you bring me!” Arden was nearly screaming the song now, the cat still yowling, the engine roaring.

  But they were up, so far away from the gunmen the bullets were ineffective. Whatever damage had been done was done. He assessed the instrument panel, looking for potential trouble.

  Arden had stopped her quirky rendition of “O Christmas Tree.” The cat had stopped yowling. The only sound was the whir of the engine. It sounded smooth. No coughs or hiccups, but the fuel pressure gauge dipped and a red light flashed ominously on the panel.

  “That,” Arden said, jabbing her finger toward the light, “does not look good.”

  “We’ll be fine.” He hoped. There was a problem with the left flap on the wing of the plane. For now he could still fly, but depending on the issue, his ability to control altitude and speed of the aircraft could definitely be affected—the higher they flew, the worse it would be. More of a concern was the fuel pressure gauge that was definitely reading lower than it should. If they lost fuel pressure, they’d have no choice but to make an emergency landing.

  “Define fine,” she demanded, her face so pale even her lips were white. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, and a face that was more intriguing than beautiful. She also had a brain that rivaled anyone Kane had ever met—she’d definitely give his academically focused parents and those in their social circle a run for their money.

  Lying to her wasn’t going to work.

  Even if it would have, he wasn’t going to do it. Truth was always the best way. Even if the truth was sometimes difficult to swallow.

  “A bullet may have hit the wing flap,” he said, bracing himself for Arden’s full-out panic.

  To his surprise, she simply nodded.

  “That’s what I thought. I suppose you have a plan?”

  “Yeah. Get the plane back down and fix the problem.”

  “Is there another airport close by?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I won’t run the risk of landing anywhere in Maine if I can help it.” GeoArray seemed to have connections and resources. He was pretty sure the company could quickly mobilize the troops wherever he put down.

  “What if you can’t make it out of Maine?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” And if Kane was reading the gauges correctly, they’d be fortunate to make it across the border into New Hampshire.

  FOUR

  The plane was definitely listing to the right.

  Arden decided not to mention that to Kane. She was certain he’d already figured it out.

  “How much time do you think we have?” she asked.

  Kane didn’t answer, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that their time was limited. The red flashing light, the heavily listing fuselage, the slight side-to-side motion—she’d never flown before but she was pretty certain none of that was supposed to be happening.

  She took a calming breath. Mind over matter, she told herself, and glanced out the window, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

  The plane continued its ascent over the trees that surrounded the airfield. The lights of the runway were small specks on the ground below them. The town a distant pattern of lights and darkness. It would have been beautiful if she hadn’t been terrified.

  She had never liked heights and always had an unexplainable and insurmountable fear of flying. Yet here she was, in the cockpit of a small plane, sitting next to a man she’d met a handful of times, probably already more than a thousand feet above the ground. Flying. Something she’d told herself she’d never do.

  Desperate times really do call for desperate measures, she supposed.

  On her lap, Sebastian stirred. Arden folded down the jacket Kane had draped over them for warmth, unfastened the carrier’s safety flap and peeked down at the cat. Typical of her furry friend, he popped his head up, took in his surroundings and ducked back into the carrier, snuggling into the warmth of her lap.

  She’d adopted him when he was almost two. He’d been a nervous cat then, but she recognized the deep-seated curiosity that was kept at bay by his timid personality. She’d known at once he would be hers. The ladies at the shelter had tried to dissuade her, pointed out several friendlier and more confident kittens. But she instinctively knew that no one would be as accepting of Sebastian as she would be. Her own idiosyncrasies had made her more tolerant of differences in others. He deserved a good home with someone to love him despite his quirks. Everyone did.

  For the past six years, she had been his family. They’d done everything together.

  Now, it seemed like they might die together.

  She shouldn’t be scared. She knew where she’d spend eternity. The problem was, she had a lot more living she wanted to do before then.

  And then there was the little matter of GeoArray, the fact that without her intervention the company would continue whatever underhanded deals it was making with no one the wiser.

  Not only that, but there’d be no justice for Juniper’s husband, Dale, and his death would always be considered a suicide, leaving Juniper unable to claim his life insurance policy. Without Dale’s income, Juniper would need that money to make a comfortable life for her and their unborn child.

  She reached in and petted Sebastian’s head, humming a few bars of “O Christmas Tree.” It wasn’t her favorite song, but it reminded her of childhood, of family nights spent watching Christmas specials with her parents and brothers. Of comfort and love and acceptance.

  Christmas was coming.

  Would she be spending it with her family?

  Or would they be spending it at her grave?

  “Death isn’t the worst thing a person can face,” she said, more to herself than to Kane. “But I’d prefer to not experience it tonight.”

  He must have heard, despite the loud drone of the engine. “You’re not going to die.”

  “What evidence do you have to support that theory?” Feeling a chill, she pulled the jacket up over her chest and shoulders again, then glanced over at Kane, who was adjusting a headset on his ears with his right hand, his left never leaving the yoke. He grabbed a second set of headphones, passed them to her.

  “Put these on. We’ll be able to talk without having to yell over the sound of the engine.”

  A diversionary tactic.

/>   Obviously, he had no evidence, but he didn’t want to admit it.

  She put the headset on anyway, adjusting the mouthpiece.

  The sound of the engine was muffled, and she could suddenly hear the frantic thudding of her heart. Listening to it throbbing in her ears only made her fear more real.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked. She was sure he could, but she needed the distraction.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Can air traffic control hear me, too?”

  “Nope, your headset is isolated to this plane. Mine is the only headset that has direct communication with the tower.” Kane tapped the instrument panel with his finger, then adjusted some gauges.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “It’s under control, for now.” His vague answer was less than satisfactory.

  “Can you explain what under control means?”

  “Do you always ask for explanations?”

  “No. Sometimes I ask for evidence or stats. This time, I want an explanation.”

  “The plane is maintaining altitude,” he said, apparently not alarmed by the fact that they were listing to one side.

  “At an angle that doesn’t seem conducive to flying,” she pointed out.

  He met her eyes. “We are flying, Arden.”

  “Stating obvious points isn’t helping your cause.”

  “I think I preferred your rendition of ‘O Christmas Tree’ to your questions,” he muttered, adjusting another gauge.

  “I prefer fact to speculation. If we’re going down—”

  “Every plane goes down eventually.”

  “That is not comforting.” She hugged the cat-filled pet carrier to her protectively.

  “I’m planning a controlled landing,” he responded.

  “Planning?”

  “I’m also afraid a bullet may have hit a fuel line, so our flight may be cut short.” He looked over at her then, his eyes dark, expression guarded.

  The dim lights of the instrument panel cast red, orange and green shadows across his face and his dark brown hair. He’d had a military buzz cut the last time she’d seen him; his hair was longer now, falling across his forehead and curling at the nape of his neck in that messy casual way models strove to achieve. On Kane, it looked natural and he didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who’d spend time preening in front of a mirror.