Allegiant (31 page)

My eyebrows shoot up. “As in the Virgin
Islands?”

“
The same.”

Of all the places in the world, how did he
come up with the Virgin Islands? Not that I’m complaining. If
anything, it’s not Alaska. I can do tropical.

“
So…” Dane drifts off and
looks uncomfortable.

He looks lost for words, as am I. I twist my
fingers in my lap. He must have a million questions.

“
James never left you,” he
says matter-of-factly.

I shake my head, sheepish. “No.”

“
It explains a lot,” he
says and looks at his feet. “It explains a whole lot.”

“
I’m sorry.” I lean forward
and try to catch his eyes. “You know why I couldn’t tell you,
right? I tried to deal with things as best I could, but I was
terrible at it. I’m so s –”

“
Stop,” he interrupts and
looks at me. “It’s not your fault.”

I frown. “Of course it’s my fault! The last
time I saw you, I handled it completely wrong, and I hurt you, and
–”

He sets his hand on my knee. “I said
stop.”

I shut my mouth.

“
There’s only one person I
blame for your actions and it’s not you,” he says as he searches my
face. “So stop apologizing.”

Who does he blame? Himself? That’s not fair.
“You can’t blame yourself,” I say, appalled. “You had no idea what
was going on.”

He snorts. “I don’t blame myself.”

A voice comes over the PA. “Good evening,
passengers. We will now start boarding flight 513 with non-stop
service to Miami. At this time, we’d like to start with our first
class passengers and any guests that require special assistance.
Again, that’s flight 513 with service to Miami. Welcome
aboard.”

Dane stands. “That’s us.”

A line of elderly people begins to form near
the jet way. I see a man in a wheelchair and a woman using a
walker. I look up at Dane and smirk. “Do I require special
assistance?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, doofus. First class.
Let’s go.”

I stand, impressed. “Do you treat all the
girls you save from the supernatural this way?”

He grins. “Only you, baby. Only you.”

Our seats are in the second row of the
plane. Dane graciously allows me to take the window seat, and I
fiddle with the seatbelt as he gets comfortable. I look around and
play with the window shade, and then pluck the safety card out of
the seat pocket in front of me. As the other passengers file in, I
open the card and study the pictures of the emergency exits and use
of the oxygen masks.

“
What’s so interesting?”
Dane leans over my shoulder.

“
Have you ever heard of the
oxygen masks actually being used?”

“
No. Why?”

“
Just curious.”

I continue to study the card, twisting
around to locate another exit. First class is blocked by a
partition, and I can’t see more than two rows behind me.

Dane frowns. “What are you looking for?”

“
The exits,” I say
seriously. “I’ve never flown before.”

“
You’re kidding.” He looks
shocked. “You’ve never been in a plane?”

I shake my head.

“
Ever?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s what no means.”

He looks amused. “Are you scared?”

I give him a stale look. “No, I’m not. I’m
just trying to be prepared.”

He tries not to smile. “FYI, your seat
cushion can be used as a flotation device.”

“
That’s very helpful,” I
say sarcastically, “seeing as how we’ll be flying over land the
entire time.”

He laughs.

Eventually, the plane is full and the flight
attendants give us their spiel as we taxi. When it comes to the
actual takeoff, I have to admit that it’s kind of a rush, and I
like it. Dane gives me a few sideways glances; I think to make sure
I’m not nervous, or ready to puke, or anything. As we climb higher
in the sky and the plane levels itself, I stare out the window into
the darkness as a realization settles over me. I’ve just left
behind everything comfortable and familiar in my life. I’ve left
behind everyone I love for something I can never explain, and they
don’t even know it. I feel my throat constrict.

Dane nudges my arm. “Would you like
something?”

I rip my eyes from the window and see one of
the flight attendants hovering over him. “Like what?”

“
We have water, coffee,
juice, soda, wine, and liquor. Would you like a cocktail?” she
asks, too perky for this time of night.

“
Um, water.
Please.”

She hands me a bottle from her cart. “And
for you, sir?”

Dane looks at me. “I think I could use
something stronger than water.” He turns back to Ms. Perky. “What
have you got for mixed drinks?”

I focus my attention back on the night sky,
blocking them out and ignoring what he orders. He deserves to have
whatever he wants; shoot, give him the whole damn bottle of
whatever. Tonight, he left his life behind, too.

All because of me.

I close my eyes as the thought weighs
heavily on my conscience. How will I ever repay him?

“
Here.” He nudges my arm
again and hands me a small plastic bag. Ear buds. “They’re
complimentary.”

“
Thanks,” I say quietly and
slowly take them from his hand.

His hazel eyes register concern. “What’s
wrong?”

I immediately force a weak smile. “Nothing.
Just tired.”

He frowns. I know he doesn’t believe me. I
busy myself by tearing open the bag and locating the connection in
the armrest, just like I saw the woman across the aisle do. I pop
the buds in my ears and find the first tolerable music station,
then close my eyes and lean back in my seat to lose myself. I can’t
have a heart to heart talk with him right now. You think a crying
baby on an airplane is bad? Nobody wants to have their flight
ruined by a sobbing mess of a grown woman.

Our layover in Miami is only thirty minutes,
which allows us just enough time to get from one gate to the next.
The plane we’re taking to St. Thomas is nothing like the jet we
took from Kalamazoo; it’s tiny, with propellers on the wings, and
we have to walk out onto the tarmac to board. When we’re seated,
the plane holds only six passengers, including us. Two of them are
clearly a couple; they’re all over each other kissing and
giggling.

“
Geez,” I mutter under my
breath. “Get a room already.”

Dane snickers.

The flight is a short hop to the island, and
I’m so grateful to be nearing the end of this journey. The Cyril E.
King airport in St. Thomas is even smaller than K Zoo
International, and it takes us no time to collect our three bags. I
follow Dane to the car rental counter.

“
Why don’t you sit down?”
he suggests, concerned. “You look like you’re ready to keel
over.”

I eye a nearby bank of chairs and shuffle my
way to one of them. I take this opportunity to remove my jacket.
It’s hot here, even in the dead of night. If I’d known where I was
headed I wouldn’t have chosen my jeans and tennis shoe ensemble. My
feet are starting to sweat in my socks. I can’t wait to lie down in
a bed, with blankets and sheets and a pillow. A random thought hits
me. Where are we staying? Was there enough time to find a place or
will we have to search for an open room somewhere? Will we end up
camping on a beach? The thought of more uncertain travel makes me
scowl.

“
Is there a problem?” Dane
asks as he approaches me, his hand full of papers.

“
Please tell me you know
where we’re going,” I nearly whimper.

“
I know where we’re going,”
he says confidently.

“
Thank God,” I sigh and
pull my body off the chair. I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and
gesture ahead of us. “Lead the way.”

Outside in the airport rental lot, Dane
consults the papers in his hand to locate the parking space that
holds our car. When he stops in front of a red Aveo, I burst into a
fit of giggles, wrapping my arms around my sides. “You’re not
serious?” I laugh. This car is the size of a roller skate; Dane
will never be able to drive it.

“
Hey,” he gives me a
crooked smile. “Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s late and we didn’t
have a reservation. This is what we get.” He unlocks the car and
lifts the hatch. Only one of our bags and my backpack will fit in
the trunk; the other bag has to go in the backseat.

I climb into the passenger side and Dane
wedges himself in to the driver’s seat, sliding it back as far as
possible to accommodate his legs. Even with the seat adjusted his
knees still hit the steering wheel.

“
Do you want me to drive?”
I ask, suppressing more laughter.

“
Have you ever driven on
the left side of the road?”

I shake my head. “No, but it’s late. There’s
probably little traffic.”

He buckles his seatbelt. “I’m driving.” He
sets his phone in a cup holder on the dash and pulls up an address.
“Here we go,” he says and starts the car.

“
I take it you’ve been here
before?”

He looks over his shoulder to back out of
the parking space. “To vacation, yes.” He faces forward and puts
the car in drive. “But not at this same place.”

We leave the airport and pull out onto a
deserted two lane highway. As Dane follows the GPS instructions, I
stare out the window, following the coastline as we drive. I roll
the window down and a blast of salty sea air hits me. The
headlights bounce off the palm trees that line the road, and I
allow myself a small smile. Under different circumstances, this
could be my type of place.

The GPS tells us to turn left ahead, then
right, then left again. Around twenty minutes later, we end up in a
residential area, where huge homes are sporadically spaced. Some of
them have gated drives, some don’t. Most have impressive
landscaping that is lit up in the night; I even catch a few water
features here and there. We’re clearly passing through a wealthy
part of the island; there’s no way we’re staying anywhere around
here. There aren’t any hotels as far as I can see.

As usual, my assumption is wrong as the GPS
tells us our destination is approaching on our right. Dane slows
the car and then turns onto a short paved drive which is lined with
palm trees. We roll to a stop in front of a large three car garage
where he cuts the engine and turns to me with relief. “We made
it.”

I shoot him a look of disbelief. “Here?” I
glance to the garage and back to him again. “We’re staying
here?”

One side of his mouth quirks up. “Yes. Well,
in the house attached to the garage, yes, we’re staying here.” He
smiles. “Let’s go.” He opens the car door and pulls himself out of
the small space, standing and stretching.

I push my door open and exit the roller
skate, slamming it behind me. I walk around to the back of the car
to join Dane, who already has my backpack and suitcase
unloaded.

“
Here.” He reaches into his
back pocket and opens his wallet. He hands me a piece of paper.
“This is the security code to unlock the front door. Go ahead; I’ll
be right behind you.”

I take the paper from him and pull my
backpack on to my shoulder. He grabs my suitcase and carries it
around the side of the car as he retrieves his. I turn and walk
slowly up the well-lit cobbled path that leads to the front door,
admiring what I can make out of the intricate landscaping. This
place must be gorgeous in the daylight. When I pry my eyes away
from the yard, the front porch appears before me and I walk up two
steps to the door. The outside of the house is covered in an
aggregate of large stones, each a different shape and color. I
search for a keypad and find it off to the right, under a folded
note taped to the stone. The paper has Dane’s name scribbled across
it, and I remove it to punch in the code. I hit enter, hear the
definite click of the door unlock, and let myself inside.

Holy crap. This place looks like I just
stepped into an episode of HGTV. My wide eyes roam the
surroundings, and I take a few tentative steps forward. The
entryway spills into a tiled great room, the ceiling made up of
exposed weathered beams. The walls are covered in a rich wood
paneling, and the entire wall opposite me is constructed of floor
to ceiling windows that are covered in ivory drapes that billow and
puddle on the floor. The living area is full of plump furniture in
a sage green trimmed in honey oak with end tables to match. A large
flat screen adorns the wall across from the couches, and a dining
table sits back by the windows, carved from the same honey oak, and
surrounded with chairs to seat six. Fresh flowers adorn every flat
surface, and I can see that the room extends to my left, rounding a
corner. My mind races. Whose house is this? I glance down at the
note in my hands and unfold it.

Mr. Dane & Mrs. Teagan Walker,

Congratulations on your recent nuptials! We
are so happy we were able to accommodate the change in your rental
date. We hope that you find everything to your satisfaction. Should
you require anything or have other concerns, please contact us
directly at 340 691 6143. Our staff is on call 24 hours a day,
seven days a week.

Thank you for choosing Luxury Retreats
International! We appreciate your business!

Sincerely,

Loretta Young

LRI, Inc.

A sarcastic snort of laughter escapes as I
let my backpack fall from my shoulder. There’s no way this day
could get any more bizarre; my exhaustion level must be through the
roof. I could swear I just read that Dane and Teagan are married. I
reread the letter. No, that’s what it says.