Читать книгу Stolen Moments - B.J. Daniels, B.J. Daniels - Страница 12
ОглавлениеLevi swam in a sea of warm darkness, caught in its seductive hold. She didn’t know how long she’d been under as she began to swim toward the surface, sensing the light above her growing brighter.
If only she could open her eyelids, but the effort was too much. Her limbs felt leaden and her mind groggy and jumbled with strange, terrifying images that danced in and out and seemed so real. She tried to grasp one, but it scudded away, a wisp no more tangible than smoke.
Still shrouded in the ominous dreams, she finally managed to surface, opening her eyes a crack, afraid of what she’d find. She blinked, becoming aware of two things. She was in a small airplane—a private jet, by the plush interior and propellerless hum—and she was not alone.
* * *
FROM ACROSS THE AISLE, Seth Gantry watched her come out of the drug-induced sleep. The resemblance had been startling. He’d seen it the moment she stepped from her car into the glare of the headlights. Her hair, a tumble of dark burnished waves cascading around her shoulders. Her body, slim and long, softened by full curves.
It had stopped him like a shotgun blast to his chest. Shanna. He’d stood, too stunned to move. For one breath-stealing moment, he’d believed it really was her standing there. Then she’d turned and he’d seen the woman’s face. And reality had come like a blow.
But even now in the light of the plane’s interior, he could see similarities between the two women. The hair. The wide-set eyes fringed with dark lashes. The high cheekbones.
But he could also see differences. The full, sensual mouth. The patrician features.
And yet when she opened her eyes, he thought they would be blue. As blue as Texas bluebonnets. And as filled with that silent pleading as the last time he’d looked into them.
The woman opened her eyes, blinked, then looked over at him. They weren’t blue at all, but a surprising pale violet. And all he saw in them was a drugged blankness.
She wasn’t Shanna. Not that he’d really believed she was. Except for that split second of insanity. So why did just looking at her hurt so much?
“Hello,” he said, his voice rough with emotions he thought he’d buried years ago. Obviously he hadn’t buried them deep enough. Disappointment sat on his chest, making each breath a hard-won victory.
She blinked again, looking at him with an empty vagueness that confirmed the heavy-duty muscle relaxant had done its job.
The question was: How much did she remember? She looked confused and probably incoherent. But would she experience the usual short-term memory loss?
He hoped so. It would be better if she didn’t remember what had happened to her, he thought, absently rubbing his hand where she’d bitten him. Seth liked fight in a woman. Just not this woman. And not now.
As he watched her, he remembered the feel of her in his arms—her surprising physical strength, as well as her strength of will. He waited expectantly, still seeing Shanna in her and wishing he didn’t.
She offered a drunken lopsided smile. There was no sign of nausea, he thought, pleased with his choice of drugs. Nor any fear in her expression. Yet. He knew it would take a few minutes before she’d be coherent and by then they’d have landed and she wouldn’t be his problem anymore. This was one job he’d be glad to have over.
She frowned and looked around, her gaze questioning. He wondered if every emotion this woman felt showed as clearly on her face, or if it was just her drugged, uninhibited state. Again he felt that tug of interest and found himself wondering about her. He caught himself. It didn’t matter. Actually, it was better not to know. It made things easier. Less personal. And that’s the way he liked them.
“You’re in a plane,” he said in response to the look. “We’ll be landing soon.”
The brows unfurrowed. She blinked and seemed to study the plane as if she thought she should recognize it. Why did he get the feeling she’d been in a private jet before? For the moment, she seemed satisfied with his answer and he was glad of that.
When she looked at him again, the violet eyes registered flashes of random emotions from confusion to curiosity. But it was the intelligence he saw there that worried him. Intelligence and strength of will? Seth hoped he wouldn’t regret that he hadn’t handcuffed her to the seat.
* * *
SHE WAS FLYING? It didn’t surprise her. She felt airborne and wasn’t sure she even needed the aircraft. Her thoughts zipped in and out like fighter planes, so fast she couldn’t catch even one for more than an instant. Her body floated as if weightless, although it seemed to be slumped in the plush seat. Her brain was unable to get her limbs to respond.
She smiled to herself, relishing this alien notnecessarily-unpleasant feeling. If she’d been able to reason, she’d have been horrified at this inability to think or move, let alone the idea of waking in a jet with a strange man. She didn’t even like to have more than a glass of wine because of her need to be in control at all times.
But that Levi was gone. This Levi couldn’t care less. She soared. Free. And it felt...delicious.
While she had no fear of flying, she did wonder how this cowboy had ended up on her magic carpet ride. As she looked over at him, she also wondered who he was and how she felt about him. She had no idea how she should feel about him, since her mind was still senseless and her body wonderfully insensible, but she felt something. In fact, her awareness of him seemed magnified, as if just one touch, even one whiff, would tell her everything she needed to know.
She closed her eyes and sniffed. Mmm. Very male. Unique as fingerprints and just as telling, his masculine scent seemed to fill her with what she knew instinctively were small truths about him. Strong. She smiled as another truth invaded her senses. Sexy. Very sexy. She opened her eyes, drunk with the essence of him, and grinned. At least she thought she grinned.
He gave her a small smile. She thought she felt her grin deepen into a smile, but who knew. She liked to think at least her lips were working.
“Would you care for some juice?” he asked.
Nice voice. Soft, considerate and something else that dodged her grasp. Apprehensive? That didn’t make any sense. What would he have to be apprehensive about?
She passed on the juice with a laborious shake of her head, feeling too far beyond forming the words “No, thank you.”
He didn’t seem to mind. Part of her watched him open an orange juice and take a drink.
His hands drew her attention. Large hands. She blinked, still staring at his long, sensuous fingers, as a jolt of fear shot through her. Odd, she thought, dragging her gaze back to his face. Where had that come from?
Nothing about the man looked dangerous. Certainly not his face. It was a pleasing sculpture of strong angles and planes, broken by the midnight black of his thick cowboy mustache that softened the hardness of bone and muscle to make him downright handsome. The mustache filled his upper lip and curled down past the corner of each side of his wide, well-defined mouth. His hair, the same shiny black, was thick and long enough to brush his collar.
Dressed as he was, he could have passed for one of the ranchers who frequented the Cattleman’s Club in San Antonio. He wore jeans, a blue-checked western shirt, a leather vest, a tooled leather belt with an elk-horn buckle and western boots. A Stetson sat atop a sheepskin coat on the empty seat to his left.
He rested one long, muscular leg on the knee of the other and appeared as complacent as a tomcat sunning himself.
She decided there was nothing about this cowboy that seemed cause for concern. And yet...she couldn’t remember what he was doing here any more than she could remember what she was doing here.
What was wrong with her anyway? She still felt a little...drunk. But she didn’t remember drinking even one full glass of wine at dinner. Strange. She didn’t remember much of anything since dinner, she thought as she glanced out the window.
It was dark outside. She frowned as she looked down at her watch. Seven-thirty. Thanksgiving Day. Startled, she realized her last clear memory was driving back from taking Natalie into San Antonio. That had been just a little after five o’clock. How could she have lost two and a half hours? And more importantly, what had happened between then and now?
In that time, she could have flown hundreds—even thousands—of miles from home. But why had she? Worse yet, she still hadn’t been able to place the man with her. Of course she had to know him. She’d never get into a plane with a total stranger. Maybe he was a friend of Natalie’s.
She looked over at him again, a sense of something at the edge of her memory, something... foreboding.
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are or where we’re going,” she said politely, always a senator’s daughter. “I think I might have imbibed a bit too much.” That wouldn’t have been like her at all, but how else could she explain this?
“Don’t worry about that now,” he said, giving her a smile. “You should get changed before we land.” He handed her a large, bulging shopping bag. “I need to speak to the pilot. Since you’re still a little woozy, you might want to change right here.” With that, he got up and left.
She stared after him. Still a little woozy? But why was that? And why did she need to change?
Inside the bag, she found jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, a winter coat, boots, hat, wool socks and gloves. Wherever they were headed must be cold.
The moment she tried to get to her feet to change, she realized he was right: she was woozy. She sat down again and dressed as quickly as she could, considering her body still wasn’t reacting sensibly and she had no idea when the man would return. For some reason, the thought of adding more clothing made her somehow feel...safer. Safer from what?
She was trying to puzzle out these odd thoughts, when the plane began its descent. Out the window she could see no lights, no illuminated landmarks, just a nothingness as if she were being dropped into outer space. Waking in a private jet had come with a certain sense of security. Even the stranger hadn’t posed any threat. So how did she explain her growing anxiety? It was those dark, frightening images banked at the back of her brain. Were they memories? Or just bad dreams?
She wished he’d return so she could ask him some questions now that she felt a little better. Before they touched down, she’d like to know what she was doing here. And with him.
The wheels hit and bounced, then settled into the runway. She’d expected to see more than a narrow strip of runway lights. They had to be in the middle of nowhere.
She swallowed hard. What in the—She caught sight of a hangar as the plane taxied toward it. Behind the hangar, the lights of some town glowed. She let out the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. She never thought the mere sight of lights would excite her.
Lights. A memory skidded past. Her heart took off again as she tried to corner a clear image. She almost had it, but then the plane stopped and the cowboy came out of the. cockpit.
She looked up at him, frustrated at his timing and, at the same time, glad to see him. She wanted desperately to extinguish the fear rising in her. This man had done nothing to make her fearful so why—
Her eyes locked with his. Eyes as black as the bottom of a well. She felt a start. There was something there. But something that justified her fears?
Outside the plane, someone pulled down the steps. She stood and started toward the door, not sure she could trust her mind, let alone her instincts. She’d wanted answers, but right now she just wanted off this plane and away from this cowboy and the images flickering in her head. Horrible images that if true—
He stepped in front of her, one large hand absently rubbing the palm of the other as he stared at her. His look sent a shudder through her.
She dropped her gaze, letting it fall to his large hands again and felt that flicker of a memory just beyond her grasp. He quit rubbing his palm and she saw something that stopped her heart dead. Teeth marks.
* * *
SETH HAD COME OUT of the cockpit already distracted because of the change in plans. He wouldn’t be dropping her at the airstrip after all, but taking her on by helicopter to the cabin. He swore under his breath; he hated changes. But mostly he just wanted this to be over.
Then he’d looked up and seen her.
Even if she hadn’t reminded him of Shanna, he’d have been thrown off guard by her. She looked damn good in jeans and a flannel shirt, round and full in all the right places, just as he’d known she would. She’d pulled her wild mane of hair back with a thin lavender ribbon from her dress and rolled up the sleeves on the shirt, exposing lightly freckled, sun-browned forearms.
But it was her face, with those incredible violet eyes, that made him unable to keep his gaze—and his thoughts—off her, no matter how hard he tried to keep his distance.
That’s why it took him a moment to realize that more than her clothes had changed.
Although trying hard not to show it, she’d remembered something. It showed in that incredible face, just like every emotion she’d felt so far.
He could only guess what she’d remembered. Not that it mattered now. But as he followed her gaze to the palm of his right hand, at least he knew what had triggered it.
Suddenly the door to the plane yawned open, a gaping dark hole beside him. A gust of cold air whooshed in, scented with pine and snow. God, it had been so long. The air brought with it a rush of remembrances, some so painful he felt as if he’d been blindsided.
Of course she took that opportunity to dart for the open doorway. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and gently pulled her back.
Her eyes widened as she lifted her face to him. “Who are you?” Her voice had an edge to it, as if warning him that he just might not know whom he was dealing with.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said. “It isn’t about me.”
“Then who is it about?” she asked. “My father?”
“I don’t know. Neither will you until we get to the cabin.”
“The cabin?” Her gaze refused to release him. It was as if she could see into his very soul. From the disgust on her face, she didn’t like what she saw there. “You’re not telling me anything.”
“It’s the best I can do.” Seth could see that wasn’t good enough. “It will all be clear when we get to the cabin.” Indecision played across her features. “I hope it won’t be necessary for me to drug you again,” he said softly.
The violet eyes widened for an instant, then narrowed in an emotion he recognized only too clearly. Fury.
“Good,” he said. “It appears we understand each other.”
* * *
OH, SHE UNDERSTOOD him all right. She’d been kidnapped! The frightening images in her head had been real! Memories scudded by like dark ominous clouds. The sound of him behind her, the overwhelming arms tightening around her, the hand covering her mouth. Screaming inside. Fighting. Fighting fruitlessly in helpless terror. Then the prick of a needle in her arm. Then nothing.
The bastard had drugged her! And now he’d threatened to do it again unless she cooperated. She glared at him. Tears stung her eyes but she would not cry. Tears would show weakness. She had to be strong, keep her head, use her head.
He pulled on his sheepskin coat, settled the Stetson on his head, his gaze steady, impassive and honed in on her like radar, but calm. Too calm. A shiver raced through her. A man who’d just kidnapped Texas Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter should be worried as all get-out. Only a crazy man wouldn’t be. A crazy man. Or a man who had nothing to lose. She stared at him, afraid he just might be both.
“Let’s go,” he said as he picked up her clothes and stuffed them into a backpack from behind his seat. He nudged her forward, his hand firmly on her shoulder. “Watch your step.”
She didn’t miss the warning in his words. But she had no intention of doing anything that would give him an excuse to drug her again. Drugged, she didn’t stand a chance.
At the open doorway she stopped to look out. Snow. It shone, silver-white against the dark of night; it covered the ground as far as she could see. Whoever had opened the door didn’t seem to be around anymore, but nearby a helicopter waited.
The cowboy took hold of her the moment they stepped onto the frozen ground and drew her toward the chopper, his hand clamped firmly around her upper arm, his body pressed against her side.
She looked around, hoping there would be other people, someone she could call to for help. But the airstrip was empty and a large white expanse of open field ran for a good mile in the direction of the lights of the town. The only building, the hangar, sat dark and empty.
As she neared the whirring blades of the helicopter, wind spun the fallen snow, showering her in white ice-cold powder. The door opened and she was pushed up into a seat behind the pilot. Her kidnapper slid in next to her, his thigh against hers in the tight confines of the chopper.
Before she could buckle up, the helicopter lifted off, spinning away into the night. She pressed herself to the side window, pulling away from him. All she could see below was the shine of the snow broken occasionally by the dark fringe of the evergreens and the rise and fall of mountains as the chopper skimmed low over them.
Without a word, he reached across to snap her seat belt closed, forcing her to touch him again.
His closeness assaulted her senses. But this time, his male scent evoked memories of the kidnapping, the same way his muscled thigh against her leg reminded her how easily he could overpower her. The images danced before her. Pouring rain. Darkness. His arms clamped around her and the helplessness she’d felt as he’d dragged her away from her car, away from her life.
She looked back. The lights of the town were gone. Slowly she turned to stare ahead again into the darkness, her heartbeat a deafening roar in her ears. Tears blurred her eyes as sobs rose in her throat, choking her. She’d been kidnapped. The ramifications had finally hit home. All her bravado, all her control, all her toughness deserted her. She was afraid, ice-in-the-veins afraid.
* * *
THEY WEREN’T IN THE AIR but a few minutes when the helicopter dropped low, hovered for a moment, then set down in a cloud of whirling snow.
“Ladies first,” her cowboy kidnapper said as he leaned over to open her door.
She glanced at the pilot, but immediately changed her mind about making a desperate attempt to gain his help. The man had to be in on this.
She reached down, her fingers fumbling with the seat belt buckle. Suddenly the cowboy’s hands covered hers and she felt the buckle release. No more stalling. This was it.
She slid out of the seat and down, tom between the fears that he planned to leave her out here alone and that he was coming with her. He stepped down beside her, grasping her arm again as he leaned over her, shielding her from the pounding ice crystals as the chopper lifted off.
Within moments the whir of its blades died away, as did the lights of the helicopter. She waited for the darkness to close in. But it didn’t. An almost full moon rose above the low-hanging clouds, illuminating them and casting an eerie light across the snow. In that strange light, she could see that they’d landed in a small, isolated meadow. Past it, she could see nothing but snow, pine trees and mountains. No sign of life. Except for the man beside her.
Her pulse drummed in her ears as she looked over at him, and she felt her first real sense of hysteria since she’d been abducted. She hadn’t been alone with this man in the jet. Or the helicopter. But now, in this isolated part of some backwoods, she was completely alone with her kidnapper. It hit her with such force, her knees threatened to give way beneath her. What did he plan to do with her now?
Next to her, he stood, his head cocked as if listening. Then his attention swung to her. “Come on.” He took her hand and she trudged in his wake, wading through the fallen snow, trying to keep up and, at the same time, see where she was going. The country looked wild and unsettled. She hated to imagine where he might be taking her.
Then he topped a small rise and she saw the cabin. It loomed up out of the darkness, a small A-frame, as picturesque as a ski lodge in the Swiss Alps.
He’d told her she’d find out everything at the cabin, but no lights shone from the windows, no smoke curled up from the chimney, nor did any tracks mar the snow. It didn’t look as if anyone were home. Had he lied to her just to get her up here without a fight? She doubted that as she followed him across the meadow. He’d also threatened to drug her again. She didn’t doubt he would have gotten her here one way or the other.
By the time Levi reached the front steps of the cabin, she just hoped it was warm and dry inside. She didn’t think past that, afraid to.
She followed the cowboy up the untracked snowy steps to the front deck. He seemed to hesitate at the door. She followed his gaze to a ramp off one end of the deck. It too was covered in fresh, unblemished snow.
She watched him frown as he looked back at the steps, as if he’d also noticed the lack of tracks and was bothered by it. Then he tried the door. It opened in his hand. She saw him reach inside and an instant later, a light came on. He quickly stepped in and pulled her in behind him.
The cabin was old-fashioned, quaint, although definitely male. She wondered if it was his, and hoped it was because the place made her believe that the man who lived here wasn’t dangerous.
He left her standing in the middle of the room. Not that he ever really let her out of his sight as he opened the doors to each of the rooms, seeming to look for something. Or someone.
The clock on the wall said it was only eight forty-five and yet she felt exhausted. Had it been less than five hours since her father had made a toast at their Thanksgiving dinner on the ranch?
She realized her kidnapper had stopped searching the rooms. He stood looking at her, frowning, his gaze obviously troubled.
“What is it?” she asked, her fear rising.
He shook his head, turned and began rummaging through drawers, pulling out items, which he thrust into his backpack. That relaxed Texas cowboy on the jet was gone; this man was anxious and on alert. She watched in alarm as he threw things into the backpack, including a pistol, then ushered her out the front door again, closing it behind them.
He stopped on the deck, appearing to listen again, then without warning, swung her up into his arms and took one long-legged step to the corner of the small deck. He lowered her to the ground below.
What in the world?
“Don’t move,” he ordered in a whisper before he jumped down beside her. She watched him break off a limb from a nearby pine tree, urging her to walk across the open space beyond the A-frame toward the darkness. Behind them, he began to brush the fresh snow over their tracks.
Levi stared ahead into the wall of dark pines, cold and sick inside. Where was he taking her now?
Once in the dense trees, he took the lead again, drawing her deeper into their seclusion as the land rose sharply. She climbed until she thought her lungs would burst from the high altitude and cold.
By the time another structure appeared, the cold and the climb had zapped her energy. She was tired and ready to quit walking. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, although he’d been the one bucking the deep, soft snow, making somewhat of a trail for her.
The dark edge of a log structure materialized out of the night and the pines. Slowly it took shape. Rustic. Small. Isolated. Barely a shack. More like a four-sided lean-to. Nothing like the A-frame they’d left behind.
She didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until she felt the tug on her arm.
“Hey,” he said, and stepped so close to her that he forced out the night air. She stared down at his gloved hand on hers. “It’s not the Hilton, but it’ll be warmer and drier than out here.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat felt swollen with the tears she’d held at bay. All she could think about was what he planned to do to her in there. It was the kind of place that might already have bodies buried under the worn floorboards—if it had a floor at all.
Her kidnapper lifted her chin until she was looking directly up under the brim of the Stetson and straight into his shadowed face. She couldn’t see his eyes but she could feel his heated gaze.
“Look, I know you’re cold and tired,” he said, as if she were simply rebelling against the accommodations. He must have felt her trembling. “You can warm up here and rest.”
It was the most he’d said to her in hours. But it was the tone that made her want to cry. Why was he being so nice now?
From inside the backpack, he took out a large flashlight, but he didn’t turn it on.
Levi glanced in the direction they’d come. She could see the lights the cowboy had left on in the cabin below them. They cast a gentle glow across the snow, making the winter scene warm and inviting. Why had he made her walk all the way up this mountainside?
He opened the shack door, seemed to listen for a moment, then motioned for her to follow. It wasn’t until they were inside that he turned on the flashlight.
Her heart sank as she saw that the one room was pretty much as she’d feared it would be: empty, except for years of dust, an old table, a couple of mismatched chairs and a cot.
His look brought the fear back in a heartbeat. “You can lie down over there,” he said, motioning to the cot. He reached into the backpack for a wool blanket and tossed it to her.
She swallowed hard. “What do you want with me?” Her voice broke and she hated the vulnerability she heard in it.
He stepped to her, letting the beam of the flashlight bore into the dusty worn wood at their feet as he gazed down at her. When he spoke his voice was soft, almost compassionate, but behind the words was an urgency, a warning. “I just want you to sit quietly until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
She nodded and stepped past him to the cot, her heart aching for her family, for home. How long would she have to stay in this cabin with this man? Or would he ever let her leave here?
The flashlight went out, plunging them into a chilly, thick darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust, telling herself this might be her chance. Maybe, if she could use one of the cot legs as a weapon...
She heard him prying boards from the window. A little of the snowy night spilled in. She could see him now, sitting in the chair he’d pulled up in front of the glassless opening. She reached down, feeling around with her hand. If she could get one of the legs free—
“Don’t,” he said.
Her gaze shot up. He wasn’t facing her, but intent on looking through the window opening with what appeared to be some kind of binoculars. Nightvision goggles?
“Don’t be foolish,” he continued conversationally, still not looking in her direction. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” His voice was low and soft and unthreatening, but the words hit her like stones. “Before you can get up and cross the room, I’ll stop you. Because I won’t have a lot of time to deal with you, it might be painful. So I suggest you just do as I ask. Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”
She straightened slowly, holding her breath, afraid to make a sound or move too quickly. Who was this man and what did he want with her? Levi stared at him, sure he was watching the A-frame where the helicopter had dropped them off. Waiting. For what? A ransom drop?
She heard him shift in the chair. She prayed that money was all he wanted. Her father would pay the ransom, even a very large one. Then she would go home.
Otherwise...she could only bide her time. Wait for him to make a mistake. Even men like him had to make mistakes. And she’d be ready when he did.
* * *
THROUGH THE GLASSES, Seth watched the A-frame and the snowy landscape around it. He could see the twin tracks where the helicopter had set down in the snow and the two pairs of boot prints that led up to the front steps of the cabin.
He waited and watched, trying to nail down exactly what was bothering him. The change of plans. He was supposed to have met Wally at the airstrip. He was supposed to have handed over the woman. Job done.
But when he’d gone up to see the pilot, he’d been informed that a helicopter would be waiting to take them to the cabin. He’d told himself he was just being overly suspicious. Or maybe his apprehension just had to do with the woman. That she’d reminded him of Shanna filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake off. Returning to Montana after all these years, facing all the memories and regrets, well, that was also taking its toll.
He squeezed his eyes for a moment to chase away the thoughts. Thoughts of Shanna. Thoughts of this woman. Both were all tangled into a knot of heartache.
Damn. He’d wanted to be back in Texas, this woman no longer his concern. Instead he was in a cold miner’s shack on a snowy mountainside fighting a terrible sense of déjà vu, as if history were about to repeat itself and, like last time, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Had the woman thrown off his instincts so much that he was jumping at shadows? Seth shook his head in disgust. He was going to look like a damn fool when he had to tromp down this mountain to deliver the woman.
Behind him, she was no longer moving around. He could hear her breathing softly. Had she finally given up and fallen asleep? Or was she sitting, waiting anxiously, wondering what to expect now? Welcome to the club.
He tried to relax. Everything had gone fine—at least at his end. Better than fine. He had her and all he had to do was hand her over to Wally. So where was Wally? Why had he changed the plan? It was so unlike him.
Seth scanned the landscape around the A-frame, seeing nothing but trees and snow. Fool. He should be in that cabin right now with a fire roaring, a mug of hot coffee and—
The A-frame exploded right before his eyes. The flash blinded him as the cabin turned into a fireball. A few seconds later, the blast echoed in his ears. He stared, dumbfounded, struck by that sense of déjà vu. And doom.
First, the change of plans. Now, this. He stared at the burning cabin, then turned to the woman on the cot, and a jolt of something stronger and much more potent than adrenaline raced through him. Cold, hard fear. Who the hell was this woman?
