Setting Him Free (8 page)

Taylor tolerated the pain in his arm because to move
now would look like a rejection. Danielle rested her chin on his
shoulder, keeping very still. Apart from the occasional sniff, she
remained silent, absorbing his words. Both of them way past the
need to question any of this.

Accept it
. In a life so empty, any crumb of
happiness was a bonus. Only now did he realise how starved of
happiness he'd been.

"Let's get a bit more comfy, shall we?"

Danielle lifted her head from his shoulder. "Oh,
Taylor, I'm hurting you." She shifted back and levered herself
awkwardly onto the seat behind her. "Thank you," she said. "I don't
have words for it, either. I wish I did. I really wish I did."

Her mouth, so gentle on his, her tongue delicately
outlining his lips, making him want her all over again.

Needle-sharp pain shot through his legs as the blood
rushed back when he straightened them. The pain in his arm had
settled into a dull ache. He pushed back into the seat and reached
out, fumbling for Danielle's hand in the darkness, trying to pull
her across to him.

"Danielle, sit with me for a while." Yes, he wanted
her, but with the day catching up with him big-time, a repeat
performance was out of the question. The spirit was very willing.
The flesh, however, was hurting like hell. What he really needed,
more than anything, was sleep.

"Let me get you some more painkillers first." Her
hand slid from his. Turning, she groped for the edge of the seat.
"There's a flashlight on my keychain. You stay right there."

Exhausted didn't begin to cover it. With his eyes
half-closed, Taylor settled back into the seat. As weird days went,
this was a good one. Waking up in a police cell, feeling mildly
insulted they'd only assigned two stupid policemen to escort him
back to England. He knew why. He wasn't destined to reach England,
let alone stand trial. Somewhere along the way someone like him
would be waiting to tidy up this mess. A single bullet, or a fatal
accident. He knew the drill. But he wouldn't see it coming, and
that's what he'd wanted. This morning he'd said goodbye to life,
resigned to his decision and stepped out into the unknown.

Taylor drifted into sleep, mumbling a prayer of
thanks to no god in particular. Even if they caught him tomorrow,
he cherished this extra day. Not as empty as he'd imagined, nor as
hopeless. With that thought, he could almost die a happy man.

* * * *

The cabin stank of lovemaking and hot, sticky bodies.
Danielle felt for the small flashlight on her keychain and located
the wet-wipes in her carry-on. Taylor would need one too, and those
painkillers. He must be desperate for them, poor thing. She'd paid
his broken arm no heed when they'd made love. So caught up in
taking what she'd wanted the pain hadn't crossed her mind.

Hell, it had been a frenzy of need and want. A
desperate struggle to get as close to each other as possible.
Scary. If she felt like this with him a few feet away, how would it
be when he'd disappeared from her life?

She'd been certain she wanted him to run, but now
wasn't so sure. How selfish could she get? With a pang, she noticed
the ring, the two crosses, a billfold, littering the cabin floor
along with the rest of the condoms. Thrown down with no regard to
the dignity of the dead passengers. Lighting her way with the small
flashlight, she gathered them up and replaced them in the bag, all
except two of the condoms, an apology on her lips.

This wasn't only about what she wanted. So much more
was at stake. Taylor had to leave and knowing that made tonight
more important than ever. It could be their only night
together.

Rooting through her carry-on, she quickly pulled out
the wipes, painkillers and the bottle of water and in the thin
thread of light, made her way back to the seat.

Taylor was fast asleep, leaning into the corner of
the seat, his features relaxed, looking almost peaceful. She placed
the painkillers on the spare seat, the condoms in her pocket. He
needed the sleep more. And she needed to clean herself up.

In the cramped bathroom she stared at the reflection
in the tiny mirror with some trepidation, wondering who she'd see.
Not the same woman who'd boarded the plane earlier today. That
person had survived a plane crash and met one of the most amazing
men she'd ever know. She had condoms in her pocket because she
wanted him again and wasn't afraid to ask. That had to change
her.

A surprise to discover she still looked like Danielle
Radley. A bit strange in the flashlight's glow, hair lank and
greasy, dark circles under the eyes, but she was still there. Maybe
the changes were on the inside? Something she'd notice when the
rescue came and returned her to civilisation?

Rescue? That thought gave her goosebumps. Being here
with Taylor already felt more normal than her real life, and the
thought of going back strange and slightly alarming.

And, hell, she looked tired. Even worse when she
wiped away the last traces of her make-up. Time to go snuggle up
with Taylor and make the most of him while she could. The rescue
might come early in the morning, and that would be the end of
this.

No, don't start crying again
. He hadn't wanted
her to cry, she could tell.

She found the change of underwear in her carry-on,
suddenly worried they might unexpectedly be rescued in the night
and she ought not to be found like this. The thought made her
smile. Then a more sobering thought popped into her mind. The
authorities must know there was a wanted man, a killer, on board
the plane. They would be anxious to know if he'd died in the crash,
and worried about the safety of any surviving passengers if he was
alive. Taylor needed to get away, and soon. First thing in the
morning, he should go. Couldn't afford to hang around for the
rescue. He should get as far away as possible.

She slipped into the seat and leaned against him,
careful of his broken arm. Listening to the steady beat of his
heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, she decided to stay
awake and keep vigil. That's what he'd wanted before she'd scuttled
off for the painkillers. She refused to sleep this precious time
away.

If this was her only night with him, she would
appreciate every last moment.

* * * *

Taylor stretched out his legs as best he could and
squinted at the luminous dial of his watch. Twelve-thirty a.m.
Stiff and still in pain, he didn't feel as if he'd slept at all.
Adjusting himself so as not to wake Danielle, he yawned and
wondered what she'd stowed the now-long-overdue painkillers

"Hey." She was awake, whispering to him in the
darkness.

"Hey, reckon I need those painkillers about now. Did
you find some?"

"Yes, they're here." Her warm body moved away and
then he saw her face in the glow of the flashlight. "Hold out your
hand."

He took the tablets and downed two of them, hoping
they'd get to work fast.

"How are you feeling, Taylor?"

"Like shit. You?"

"Good, considering. Couldn't sleep." She settled
herself against him and he lifted his arm around her, drawing her
close. "Didn't want to after..."

"No?" He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head.
"Did I thank you for that?"

"You don't have to thank me, Taylor, it was
wonderful."

"Oh, I do, sweetheart. Sorry about earlier. Went out
like a light. Had big plans for tonight, too. " He gave a small
laugh. "Didn't want to waste it sleeping."

"Me neither, but you needed it. That arm won't heal
if you don't rest."

"It's no big deal." He sighed, remembering. "Becomes
part of you after a while, you know, the pain. You get used to
it."

"What happened to you?"

Her hand drifted over his side, just short of
tickling him. He managed to keep still with a little effort. Being
so ticklish – not very macho.

"How did you get to be handcuffed to a seat on a
plane?"

How did he answer that one? Danielle continued
stroking him while he worked out which version of this sordid tale
to tell her. Too much knowledge might be dangerous for her. He knew
how ruthless his cronies were. He'd been one of them. They'd
eliminate her without question if they thought she knew too much.
On the other hand, he owed her nothing but the truth. And he found
himself wanting to tell her. Needing to unburden to someone who
would understand without judging him too harshly. Whatever
conclusion she reached, he knew she'd never do that. Not because
she was a soft touch but simply because she seemed to understand
him in a way few ever had.

Where to start?

"I told you I enjoyed killing that wasn't strictly
true."
How can I explain this?
"It wasn't that different
from soldiering. Just something I could do, not exactly
cold-bloodedly, but I always got the job done. Then I slept at
night, no problem. There weren't many who could do that. Most ended
up either dead or in the psycho ward. I always said that would
never happen to me, and I did last longer than most."

"You couldn't do it any more?"

She was a good listener. Seemed to know that he
needed to tell this story, even though he could feel the tension
building in her as he spoke.

"It was more what they started asking me to do.
Because I was so good, I started getting all the shit dumped on me.
The jobs no-one else had the guts for." He rested his chin on the
top of her head. "They don't care about you, Danielle. Just use you
up, and dump when you're finished. Took me a while to learn that
little lesson."

"So, you refused to do a job? Is this what it's all
about?"

"Diplomat and his family. Had to make it look like
murder. Government, yours and mine, wanted to start something. Had
it all lined up, too. And then I just couldn't do it. I'd reached
my limit. Christ, one of them was just a kid."

"That's terrible. They wanted you to kill
children?"

"You don't know the half of what goes on. Anyway,
that was me basically burned out. I jumped ship, lugging what was
left of my conscience after me, and that made me really
dangerous."

"But couldn't they get someone else to do it?"

"Doesn't work that way. I covered my back, made it my
business to know what they were up to. Always made copies of files,
hid them away, just in case. Bloody file, all my back-ups
disappeared, and so did any hope in hell of me living to tell the
tale.

* * * *

Danielle's heart ached for him, even as in her mind
she tried to excuse his past. She couldn't say he was a good man
because he only killed adults or bad people. Killing was killing;
it didn't matter who the victims were. They were all someone's
children, husbands, fathers, mothers, even. She could say that he
was a better man because he wouldn't do it any more, but then he
didn't exactly sound remorseful for his past.

She prompted him to continue, guessing he hadn't
found many sympathetic ears in the past and certainly not lately.
The best she could do was listen without passing judgement.

"I'm trying to make sense of all this, Taylor. Trying
to understand." Danielle lifted her head and brushed a soft kiss
onto his cheek. "I'm guessing you wouldn't have survived even if
you'd done the job."

"You'd be right. I was a valuable asset, but
everyone's expendable. It was too big a job to let me walk away
once I knew about it. Hell, when they hand you something like that,
you know your number's up. That's why I needed the file, to know
who was involved. Figured I could blackmail them into letting me go
start a new life somewhere."

This time she kissed him on the mouth and tried to
put some passion into it. The way he kissed her back, too
desperate, groping blindly for every crumb of comfort made her
heart ache. Poor guy, so lost.

Let him finish. He'll feel better for it.

"Your wife? Where does she come into all this?"

"Helen? She had no idea what she was taking on when
she married me. Married for six whole months, we were, then she
disappeared. Wasn't hard to track her down, by which time she'd
taken up with an insurance salesman in Argentina. She was
hysterical when I turned up, so I said yes to a divorce and left
them to it. Next day the cleaner found them both dead. So now I'm
wanted for murder and every police force in the world is looking
for me.

This had to be the plot of some lurid spy movie. Only
Taylor was actually living it. And now, so was she. Whether she
liked it or not, she was part of this, regardless of how much
danger that put her in.

"They killed them both because they couldn't catch
me. Figured they needed a helping hand. So all they had to do was
sit back and wait for whichever international agency to do it for
them."

"But you wanted to get caught. Why?"

He chuckled at that. "You're a very perceptive lady,
you know that? By the way, loved you in that red wig."

"You knew it was me? I don't remember seeing you at
the resort."

"Recognised you when you got on the plane. And, no,
you wouldn't see me unless I wanted you to."

"So you just gave up running?"

"Pretty much. It all started as a game. Seeing how
close I could get without being caught, then somewhere along the
line it turned into a death wish. I just wanted it over."

"But the file, you could still use it, right?"

"If I knew where it was."

Danielle pulled herself up and knelt beside him, her
face level with his, her heart pounding now with excitement. With a
hand on either side of his head, she held him still. It didn't
matter that she couldn't see him properly. She needed his
attention. Simple enough, really. All he had to do was find the
file.

"Listen to me, Taylor. You're finding that file, and
you're getting your life back. And I'll hear no more talk of giving
up." He tried to push away. She held onto him and leaned in even
closer. "Are you hearing this?"