Setting Him Free (5 page)

Back in the aisle she peeped out of the tiny window,
its ledge already crawling with insects pouring in through the
cracked glass, and tried to work out where they'd come down. Five
islands made up the small group, but two hours of flying time meant
that they'd probably come down on the mainland, somewhere in the
tropical rainforest. Even if the plane did have a homing beacon,
without a radio it could be days before they were found.

And man, the heat.
Her short cotton skirt and
blouse were plastered to her like a second skin. Oh to be able to
take them off and wander around in her underwear. Not very sensible
with the way Taylor had been looking at her. She'd undone the
buttons and knotted the blouse under her breasts to bare her
midriff, but she knew there would be no respite until the daily
downpour.

She looked around for a place to set up the meal,
amazed at how untouched this part of the plane was. Apart from a
few broken windows and a slight tilt to the floor which made
walking and balancing a tray slightly more difficult than she'd
anticipated, everything appeared almost normal. A can of cola
suddenly slid towards the edge of the tray and, before she could
react, it rolled off and disappeared under a seat. Danielle put
down the tray and crouched low, arm extended, feeling around for
the precious drink. It was still cold, a luxury they couldn't
afford to miss out on.

Her hand found something metallic, but not the smooth
cylinder of a drinks can. Slowly she pulled the object out, staring
with amazement at the gun, which she could only suppose had come
from one the enigmatic men in black. Sitting sat back on her heels,
the can of cola forgotten, she glanced towards the front of the
plane.

The gun had been tucked under a seat near the exit.
Only Taylor could have put it there. Why had he felt the need to
hide it? Danielle weighed it in her hand. The first time she'd
handled one. With a morbid fascination, she wondered if it was
loaded and whether she'd be ever be able to kill something, or
someone, if forced to.

A snake yes. She hated snakes and wouldn't think
twice about that, but a human being? All it took was a small
squeeze. How did they do it in films?
Bring your other hand up,
brace your arms straight, then sight along the barrel. Bang, you're
dead.
Easy as that. Stretching out her arms, she closed one eye
and pretended to fire off a shot.

"Christ. Danielle, don't move!"

Taylor stood in front of her, right in her line of
fire, good arm raised, palm forward. She'd been so intent on the
gun she hadn't noticed him reappearing. For a split second he'd
looked terrified.

"Taylor?" The gun trembled in her hands and she knew
she ought to lower it, or drop it, but now every muscle in her body
seemed to have frozen.

"Over there," he said in the same quiet, measured
tone he'd used to reassure her just before the plane went down.
"That's a good girl. Point it towards the window for me."

Her finger still rested lightly against the trigger.
She felt it twitch at the same time Taylor moved, so swiftly that
her face was jammed against the seat and her arm twisted painfully
behind her back before she'd even registered it. The air left her
lungs in a rush. She struggled for breath. Heard the gun clatter to
the floor. And then Taylor's clipped tones.

"What the bloody hell do you think you were
doing?"

* * * *

Collecting personal possessions and bagging them
seemed right to do, despite not really caring about any of the
dead. Cash and condoms from the business man. ID cards. A ring and
a cross each from the nuns. A few items of jewellery from the
flight attendant. Taylor threw them into the carrier bag with the
policeman's possessions.

He glanced over the edge where he'd dumped them all.
Still no sign of the pilots or the radio. and all that was left of
the second policeman were the tattered remnants of his suit jacket,
hanging listlessly from a tree branch.

The last thing he expected to see when he squeezed
back through the gap was Danielle with the gun, kneeling down and
waving it about with no idea what it was capable of. Instinct and
years of training kicked in. He was on auto pilot by the time he'd
disarmed her with a flick of his wrist, and kicked the gun
away.

Didn't she know how easily these things went
off?
Of course she didn't; why should she? He didn't know if
the safety was on or off, and his heart hammered painfully at the
thought of what could have happened.

Danielle whimpered quietly into the seat-back and he
knew that he was hurting her, but he was still angry. Angry at what
he'd seen her do, and angry at himself for showing her a side of
him he'd rather have kept hidden.

"Danielle?" He slowly released the pressure on her
arm and turned her to face him. Her eyes were huge with both fear
and shock, and his heart sank as he searched for words to explain
why he'd reacted so violently. He kept a firm hold of her hand. She
looked as if she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

He closed his eyes, and took a few calming breaths.
When he spoke, his voice was shaking.

"Danielle, love, what were you doing?"

She stared at him as if he'd turned into a monster.
He tried again.

"Danielle, what were you
doing?
Half scared me
to death."

She shook her head a little. At least it was a
reaction. Taylor slipped his hand behind her neck and held her
still, his face close to hers. "Don't ever mess with a gun like
that again. You had your finger on the trigger, for God's sake. Do
you hear me?"

"I wasn't, I didn't... I was just playing.
Taylor?"

"Say it. Tell me you heard me."

"I hear you, Taylor." Danielle's eyes flicked briefly
to the gun lying in the aisle, then back to him. "No harm done,
right?"

"Right." Taylor nodded, anger turning to relief. "Not
this time, but I've seen it, Danielle. What these things can do.
Friend of mine was messing about, laughing, joking. Next minute he
was dead. Happens in a heartbeat, and I haven't survived this to
lose you before…before…"

"Before what?" Danielle blinked. It came out as the
barest whisper, and at the same time her hands drifted over his
shoulders. She hesitated for a moment then tugged gently, pulling
him down to her.

"Before what?" she repeated. "This?"

The tip of her tongue moved slowly over her lips and
in her eyes he saw question, invitation, and challenge. It was
unbearably exciting. The air around them sparked with tension. He
was as hard as hell, every muscle in his body rigid with need.
Blood pounded in his ears and his focus narrowed swiftly, until all
he could see was her.

He wanted her. They both had bucket-loads of tension
to work off, and it would get worse. But would one kiss be enough
to dampen the fire building between them?

Hell, it was going to happen, why was he even having
this conversation with himself? Because, afterwards, when she'd
calmed down and started thinking rationally, she'd say he'd taken
advantage of her. And she'd be right.

Taylor let his hand slide into her hair, smoothed it
back and threaded his fingers into her long pony-tail. The silky
hair slipped through his fingers and, as he rested his cheek
against hers, he scrunched the golden strands in his fist and
rubbed them against his face. A delicate hint of shampoo mingled
with her light perfume, and he breathed in the soft warmth of her
and clawed back his control.

When she tried to turn her face to him, he held her
firm.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, it was me, I was being stupid. Taylor?"

For a moment his lips rested against her salty skin
and letting go was hard. He sat back on his heels. "I didn't mean
to hurt you."

"I know." She looked slightly dazed by what had
happened, and confused by what hadn't happened. "I didn't see you
coming."

It wasn't a question, but she needed an answer. What
the hell did he tell her? She gazed at him. Expectant, wary. He
owed her an explanation.

He sighed and then spotted the tray of food behind
her on the floor of the aisle. Reaching over, he placed it between
them and twisted round to sit more comfortably.

"Looks like I got me a dinner date," he said,
attempting a smile. "Here." He opened a sandwich pack and offered
her one. It looked a little dry. She paused for a moment before
taking it. Taylor took a bite of his, chewed, swallowed, then said,
"Okay, what do you want to know?"

* * * *

He'd moved like lightning, and pinned her to the seat
without a pause. All with one arm. Avoiding his gaze, Danielle
chewed on her sandwich. Whatever he was, he'd done that before and
whatever he told her wouldn't include teddy bears and pressed
flowers, that was for sure
.

Do I really want to know this?

The canned drink fizzed when she popped the tab. She
took a swig and passed it over to him. Where to start? What did she
say?
By the way, are you a serial killer?
And what if he
said yes?

"I enjoy myself for a living," she began. "Must have
the best job on earth." The only downside is that I'm afraid of
flying, which you probably noticed. I always knew the plane would
crash, and I was right, wasn't I?" That got a small smile from him.
"Do you like flying?"

"Never really bothered me." Taylor took the can and
tipped his head back for a drink. The gun lay on the floor where it
had landed. She suspected he hadn't forgotten about it.

Why didn't he kiss me?
She closed her eyes,
cringing inwardly at the way she'd grabbed him
. He must have
known I wanted him to.

Opening her eyes, she avoided his gaze and
concentrated on her sandwich. For a few moments they ate in
silence. He wasn't picking it up, and she was usually so good at
this. Getting people to open up was her job
. He's English. So
ask him where he's from. That's always a good one.

Before she could voice the question, he spoke.

"I used to kill people for the British
Government."

No emotion. Just words. He continued eating, as if
he'd simply made a comment about the weather.

"Oh." It was all she could think of to say, and she
was never stuck for words. But then, she'd never heard that one
before. Before she could stop herself she replied automatically.
"Did you enjoy it?"

His sharp laugh made her jump.
Hell,
w
hat a
stupid thing to say.
She closed her eyes, mortified. When she
opened them he was looking directly at her, his gaze
unwavering.

"What would you say if the answer was yes?"

The very last thing she wanted to hear. Danielle went
very still. Carefully, she placed the sandwich on the tray.

"I'd say how could you?"

Was that why he hadn't kissed her? Because he knew
that when she discovered his secret, she'd regret it? Feel
contaminated and wish she hadn't.

"Enjoyed maybe isn't the right word, but I found it
easy, at first. They picked me out while I was in the army. Said I
had potential.
Hell,
I proved them right." Taylor shook his
head, as if remembering, his mouth curving into a dry smile. "Not
that different from soldiering. Just a bit more personal, that's
all."

"At first?" Danielle reached for her sandwich,
although the hunger had vanished. A knot of tension twisted in her
stomach, making her feel slightly queasy. Part of her had clung to
the hope that his crime had been something safe, like embezzlement
or tax evasion. She hadn't expected to hear this. And yet, looking
at him now, his words made perfect sense.

Somewhere inside the broken shell of a man she'd
glimpsed before the crash was the hard man who talked so casually
about killing. For that he'd need a heart cold as ice. And yet it
didn't square with the man who'd looked at her with such concern
and touched her so tenderly.

"You said, 'at first?"

"I was a regular 007. Licensed to kill, and all that.
Adventure. Glamorous women. That's how I met my wife."

Wife?
Something else she hadn't been
expecting. She felt an irrational twinge of jealousy.

He acknowledged her look of surprise. "Yes, wife.
Didn't last long though. She's dead. That's what this is all
about."

"You killed her?" Her voice was a bare whisper.
Please don't say you killed her

"No. They say I did. But I didn't. Do you believe
me?"

"I don't know." Danielle searched his face for
evidence of the truth. How did she know whether to believe him or
not? Just because she was attracted to him didn't mean he was safe
to be around. Some women formed obsessions with killers. Wrote them
letters in prison. Was she doing the same because he was
attractive, sexy and strong and she desperately wanted to believe
him?

A hardened killer who went home at night to his wife
and played ball with his kids in the park on Saturday morning?
Could you be both at the same time?

"Why didn't you let me kiss you just now,
Taylor?"

His eyes narrowed. "Danielle..."

"Was it because you thought I'd regret it once I
found out about you?"

"I suppose so." He picked up the drink can again and
stared at it. "How would you have felt knowing you'd kissed a
killer?"

"I won't know until I try it."

He snapped his head up. "Danielle, what are you
saying?"

"I'm saying that if I have nothing to fear from you,
then you can kiss me right? You didn't kill your wife so prove it
to me. You don't like killing any more? Show me. Make me know I
won't have anything to regret."

Insane logic for an insane situation. Trapped in the
middle of nowhere with dead bodies, a killer and feeling no fear?
She bit back the hysteria.