Setting Him Free (3 page)

Not a religious man, but he had done some praying in
the past two years. Prayed for his life back, all too soon
realising that no-one was listening and no-one cared. And now this.
Connection with another human being. Something he'd despaired of
ever feeling again.

Probably the shock and the adrenaline pumping through
his system. He'd been in enough hairy situations to know what that
could do to you, how it made you feel. Good sex, getting drunk,
tearing up the town. All great ways to burn it off. None of those
an option now, though.

He reached for Danielle's wrist again, feeling the
pulse strong and steady, and held on, resting his head on the arm
of her seat. Just a woman and he'd known plenty of them. Why did
she feel so special?

The fact that they were alone together in a
life-threatening situation? He laughed softly to himself. Yes, that
was enough to make her special. The next few days would throw them
together; make them dependent on each other. The plane had some
sort of homing beacon, but if they'd come down in the thickest part
of the forest it might be days before they were found.

As he studied Danielle, Taylor realised that her
being alive was a double- edged sword. If she'd died, he'd have
been out of there. With his survival skills, the jungle posed no
threat to him. One more attempt at disappearing, only this time do
it properly. He couldn't leave her, though, or take her with
him.

Taylor glanced again the front of the plane. There
may be someone in there, badly injured - he should go and check
now, but his shaky legs wouldn't let him. Twisting them under him,
he sat down in the narrow aisle, let his head drop between his
knees, and felt his blood pressure falling.

Hell, not the time to pass out.
If he had a
bad concussion he could be in trouble.

Breathing desperately, he flopped against the seat
behind him and tried to fend off the nausea. In front of him
Danielle stirred. He called out to her in a voice that sounded
thick and distant. His vision turned misty and he was only dimly
aware of Danielle, on her knees now, repeating his name over and
over, her fingers frantically searching his face.

Grabbing her hand, he tried to stay with her, but his
body had other ideas and he slipped away.
It's okay
.
She's alive.
Now sure of that, he could stop fighting so he
closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

* * * *

"Taylor." Danielle unsnapped her seat belt and
slithered to the floor, heart lurching at the bloody sight of his
companion sprawled across the opposite seat. Blood everywhere,
trickling down the man's arm to splash onto the floor. Staining his
white shirt. She shut out the image and returned her attention to
Taylor. He could be dying, right in front of her. No, h
e
couldn't die
. If everyone died, she'd be all alone.

Poor Taylor, with his sad eyes. He shouldn't die,
here, like this. It didn't seem fair. If he hadn't thrown her back
into her seat, she'd have been in the aisle when the plane went
down. He saved her life. That must count for something with the
powers-that-be.

She watched his ashen face anxiously and, when he
started to move, breathed such a sigh of relief it made her tremble
right down to her toes.
He's alive. I won't be alone
, she
thought murmuring a grateful prayer of thanks. Sitting with him in
the cramped aisle, she grasped his hand, stroking it gently,
feeling his fingers grip hers as he came to. She hadn't been big on
hand-holding before, but it seemed the most natural thing in the
world to be holding his. Her thumb drifted over his wrist while he
struggled to open his eyes.

"Danielle."

His voice was a hoarse whisper, and he sounded in
pain. When he shifted, she noticed the awkward way he held his left
arm.

"How bad is it, Taylor?"
Please don't be badly
hurt
. She didn't want to see him in pain but, selfish as it
sounded, she also needed him whole, to look after her. She was an
expert at partying, people and having a good time. A wicked
organiser and hard-nosed businesswoman. But jungle survival? Not a
clue. There were snakes out there, and wild animals. Taylor looked
like the kind of man who would know what to do. They'd need food
and water, too. Danielle glanced towards the galley, wondering how
well-stocked the plane would have been for such a short flight.
Whatever food was on board would soon spoil in this heat.

"My arm, left one." He screwed up his face and cupped
the elbow with his right hand. "Must have got yanked against the
cuffs when we hit. That, and I feel like I've been in a plane
crash."

He was studying her intently as her gaze flicked to
the discarded handcuffs and back to him. She'd almost forgotten,
but now he'd drawn her attention to them, almost as if testing her,
she knew he must be wondering how safe she felt around him.

"Let me see."

He flinched when she felt along the length of his
arm, as gently as she could, with no real idea of what she was
looking for. People did this in movies. It seemed the right thing
to do.

"Needs a sling," he said. "Can you go find a
first-aid box? Got to be one. In the galley, maybe, at the back?
And check your cell phone if it's still around. See if you have a
signal."

For the first time since she'd recovered
consciousness Danielle thought about the other passengers and the
crew. The rear part of the plane remained intact, virtually
untouched apart from a few broken windows. The front was crushed
almost beyond recognition. How could anyone have survived that?
Someone needed to go check it out. Maybe she could get through to
them if she crawled on her hands and knees? The thought made her
stomach lurch.

"Sit down, Danielle. The sling can wait." Taylor
rested his broken arm on his lap and held out his good hand. "Come
over here. Shock will get you if you don't sit down for a few
minutes. Think you're okay and then wham, it hits you. Concussion
is a given, but if you start to feel really bad, tell me."

He was right. Her limbs were shaking, her stomach
watery. If either of them had hit hard enough to cause a brain
bleed they could be dead before any hope of rescue.

"Not much we can do about that, is there?"

"I'm no danger to you, Danielle. Come sit with
me."

She swallowed down the lingering doubts. The broken
arm wouldn't have stopped him running. Why had he stayed if he
didn't feel some sort of concern for her?

"Okay, cell phone's in my purse. Let me see if it's
still on the seat."

No sign of her purse, but her carry-on bag was,
miraculously, still jammed under the seat. Yanking at the zipper,
she pulled out a tube of candy and a bottle of water. Had her purse
slid from the seat to the mangled front of the plane?

"Haven't yet seen a problem yet that couldn't be
solved by large doses of sugar."

That got a chuckle out of him. She pulled out a
fruitdrop and offered it to him. He hesitated for a moment before
opening his mouth. Popping one into her own mouth, she leaned back
against him, closing her eyes. His lips had brushed her fingers as
she'd fed him the candy and she still felt the small shiver that
had passed through her at the contact.

Be careful, Danielle.
It would be too easy to
be carried away with this. Hero and heroine in great danger.
Adrenaline pumping, Taylor was some sort of criminal, a desperado.
She had no idea what he'd done. He shifted to make her comfortable
and she felt his strength, despite the injuries. No option but to
trust him. With a sigh, she let herself do that.

"Will the man in black have a cell?"

"Checked it already. No signal."

"Taylor."

"Yes."

"Is the plane going to blow up?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"No."

"Oh."

She didn't care, either. She just wanted to sit and
reflect on the fact that they were both still alive. A dull ache
started on one side of her head, and she leaned it carefully
against Taylor's shoulder. Five minutes. Just five minutes, sitting
here with him, then she'd go fix a sling for his arm and check on
the other passengers. Too quiet, no sound from them at all.

What a rare luxury. It had taken a plane crash to get
her to sit still in a man's arms and not be thinking about the
itinerary, the next hotel, or what to wear to the club so she'd
blend in with the clientele. None of that seemed important any
more.
No, not just a luxury, it was a gift.

She let go a little more and listened to the steady
beat of Taylor's heart. Her gaze dropped to the dark red mark
circling his wrist. True, the downside was that they were in a
wrecked plane, somewhere in the tropical rainforest. Taylor was
hurt. Maybe they wouldn't be found and they'd die here. But, right
now she wouldn't trade these five minutes to be anywhere else.
Crazy though it seemed, the only place on Earth she wanted to be
was here, doing this, with him.

"Can you hear the sea, Taylor?"

"Huh?" He tilted his head and half-smiled.

"Close your eyes," she ordered. "Right now, we're on
an endless beach of white-gold sand. The sunset looks as if it's
melting into the earth. There's no wind, and the surf's making
those funny little sucking noises. And it's warm, and it's safe.
Can you see it, Taylor?"

"Yes." His hand squeezed her shoulder.

"Just the two of us, and everything will turn out
fine. And…" She sniffed and wiped at her face with her fingers.
"Sorry…"

"I'll meet you there someday. When I've got my life
back, we'll go to that beach and - hey, come on. Don't cry…"
Taylor's voice trailed off and he lapsed into silence.

Danielle's groped in her pocket for a tissue and blew
her nose. "I'd like that. Get your life back, and I'll be
there."

Her five minutes were up. Time to get on with
surviving this ordeal. Something they'd already started by giving
each other the most important thing they could. Strength. Together
they'd get through this. But Taylor wasn't coming with her if and
when the rescue came, she'd already decided that. When that
happened, Danielle wanted him as far away as possible.

She wanted to set him free. But would he go?

Taylor sat quietly while Danielle fixed him a
sling.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you."

"I've had worse." Taylor inhaled and let the breath
out slowly. The arm hurt like hell, but there wasn't much they
could do about setting it. "I need to keep it as still as possible
until the rescue."

Danielle glanced at him briefly before resuming her
task. "Are the painkillers working yet?"

"Yes, the head's feeling better."

"Do you think the plane's radio is still intact?"

"Finish up, I'll go check, and see if anyone's still
alive up there."

"I'll do it. You can't get through there with a
broken arm."

"No, not something you need to see." It was bad
enough that they still had the gruesome spectacle of the policeman
behind them. Taylor glanced at the body. They needed to get rid of
him if they aimed to use the plane for shelter.

None of this worried him. Blood and gore didn't give
him pause, but Danielle? This would be new to her.

He held the broken arm still against his chest while
she slid hers around his shoulders to fasten the sling, hissing
softly when she pulled it too tight.

She stilled. "I'm sorry. I'll be as quick as I
can."

The compassion in her eyes made him want to lay his
head on her shoulder and stay that way forever. Let someone else be
the strong one for a change.
So tired
.
So bloody tired of
everything
. And then,
hell, stop being such a wimp.

"No, it's okay. Go ahead." He leaned forward to give
Danielle more room to work. When a loose lock of her hair brushed
across his cheek he kept very still and breathed in her perfume,
memorising the feel of the gentle fingers tending him. Something to
take with him when this was all over.

Danielle sat back and surveyed her handiwork. "All
done," she said watching him carefully. Her gaze moved to the front
of the plane. "Do you think we should go look?"

Taylor put out his good arm and stopped her. "I'll
go. I should be able to get through that gap."

She pulled him back. "No, Taylor. You keep that arm
still. Let me."

"It's not something you need to see, Danielle. Won't
be pretty."

"Neither is he." She pointed to the dead policeman,
at the same time averting her eyes.

Taylor had already noticed she'd been carefully
avoiding the body. Should have covered him up. God knows what the
sight of mangled, dead nuns would to do to her.

"Do you ever do as you're told?" he said, already
knowing the answer. This was a woman used to getting her own way.
She'd do it anyway, with or without him.

"Not really. Look Taylor, let's do it together,
okay?"

He gave a brief nod. "Deal. But let me go first."

Taylor crouched and turned sideways to squeeze
himself through a gap in the crushed seats near the front of the
plane. He reached through to help Danielle, who wriggled after him.
He kept hold of her, letting his eyesight adjust to the dim light.
It no longer looked like a plane and he didn't want her stumbling
over any of the bodies.

"Stay with me." He felt for her hand and looked
around, taking in the crushed bodies of the two nuns and the
businessman behind them. No sign of the pilots. No sign of the
cockpit. Instead, a tangle of metal and a gaping hole. He pushed
Danielle behind him to stop her falling through. Spotted the flight
attendant's body at the same time she did. Felt her hand tighten in
his, heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Go back, Danielle." One look at her stricken face
and he urged her back, breathing a sigh of relief when she went
without question. He knew what she must be feeling. Disbelief, that
what you're seeing can't be real. He wasn't worried about the dead.
They were beyond anyone's help, but he'd hoped the radio might
still be intact. The black box flight recorder would have some sort
of homing beacon in it, but he'd have preferred a working
radio.