AWOL with the Operative. Jean Thomas
around in his seat to check on her. And learned she was waiting for him. Or so it seemed when their gazes collided head-on. Sam sucked in his breath as her green, siren’s eyes held his, searing him with a hot intensity.
The moment was a compelling one. He had never felt so inflamed by a woman. And he didn’t appreciate it. Not when his self-control was in jeopardy by this senseless attraction to a woman he’d met less than two hours before. Not when he felt helpless to do anything about it, except damn himself for a weakness he couldn’t afford.
She finally broke the contact, dragging her gaze away from his, her face flushed. That’s when Sam realized she was not only conscious of him on the same level but that she didn’t want this tug of strong emotions between them any more than he did.
Releasing his breath with a rush of air, he turned around in his seat to avoid the provocative sight of her. Ken Redfeather appeared to be unmindful of the whole exchange. Sam meant to keep it that way.
“Think I’ll catch a few winks,” Sam mumbled. “I didn’t have a chance to sleep on the flight up here.”
Focused on his flying, Redfeather merely nodded.
It was warm up front, probably why Redfeather had wisely rid himself of his coat before takeoff. Something else that Sam should have felt guilty about, especially since he meant to follow the pilot’s example. Unbuckling his seat belt, he squirmed out of his own coat and dropped it down beside Redfeather’s in the space between them.
Sam restored his belt before he slid down in the seat as much as his tall body would allow. He closed his eyes, but, although he needed the rest, he didn’t expect to sleep. He didn’t sleep much at all these days, not even in his own bed. And with Eve Warren very much on his mind…
Sam must have dozed off after all. For how long he had no idea. The next thing he knew, the pilot was calling to him.
“Agent McDonough, wake up! I need you!”
Sam didn’t like the insistent, concerned tone in Redfeather’s voice. Shaking off the fog of sleep in his head, he sat up on his seat, instantly alert.
“What is it? Something wrong?”
“I hope not. That out there has been tailing us.”
The pilot nodded in the direction of the window on his side. Sam leaned over to get a better view through the glass. That proved to be a sizable helicopter of the military variety.
“How long has it been out there?”
“Not sure. But it has to be a powerful chopper to keep up with us.”
Not only keep up with them, Sam realized, but overtake them. The craft was flying level now with their plane a few hundred yards straight off to their left.
“Maybe it’s an official chopper patrolling the region. Just checking us out to make sure we’re legitimate.”
Ken Redfeather shook his head. “I don’t think so, not in this area. Anyway, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“What’s happening?” Eve demanded to know.
Sam had forgotten that, except for a very small pane on either side, she had no window back there. He turned his head to make sure she was all right. “Probably nothing. Just keep low until we know,” he ordered her curtly. He swung his attention back to their pilot. “Can you rouse them on your radio? Ask them what they’re doing out there?”
“I can try.”
Before Redfeather could act, the helicopter suddenly and rapidly closed the gap between them until it was no more than a couple of hundred feet away. A door in the side of the craft rolled back, revealing a burly, bearded man kneeling there in the opening with a rifle raised to his shoulder. Within seconds, Sam could hear bullets pinging against the body of their plane.
Sonofabitch!
“They’re shooting at us!” Redfeather shouted.
Sam concurred with a caustic “I noticed that.”
He knew what their objective was. Eve Warren. He also knew who they were. Had to be Victor DeMarco’s goons ordered to bring their plane down. But how in hell had they learned his method of transport?
No time to worry about that. Somehow he had to get them out of this mess, but first—
“You okay?” he asked, whipping his head around. “You weren’t hit, were—?”
He broke off in exasperation. Although she managed to shake her head, she went on sitting there upright, looking too numb with terror to move.
“Didn’t I tell you to get down?”
“Stop bullying me!”
“Then, dammit, do as you’re told.”
The look of alarm on her face was joined now by rancor directed at him. But she complied this time, squeezing down as low as possible in her seat.
Satisfied, Sam faced forward again, snatching his Glock out of his shoulder holster. Not that it would be of much use at this distance against a powerful rifle, but he felt better with the gun in his grip. He scanned the sky out his window. Not a cloud in sight. Wait a minute. There, below them!
“We’ve got cloud cover under us,” he informed Redfeather. “Looks big enough to hide in.”
“It’s a low snow mass.”
“Man, I don’t care if it’s a typhoon. Just get us into it, and fast.”
Ken Redfeather obeyed him, pushing the yoke forward. The nose of the plane went down, sending them into a dive. Sam steadied himself against the plunge, hoping Eve was hanging on. And hoping even more that Redfeather had the skill to get them out of this steep descent once they were buried in the cloud mass.
If the helicopter was swooping after them, Sam had no indication of it. At least there was no further gunfire from the chopper. None that he could detect anyway.
Small comfort, Sam thought wryly, remembering his squad supervisor’s certainty. It looked like Frank Kowsloski had been right about Eve Warren. That she did know something vital enough for Victor DeMarco to want her taken down. In this case, literally.
So much for a simple pickup and delivery. Squad supervisor or not, he was going to blister Frank when he got back. If he got back.
A fog closed in on the plane, cloaking them with its thickness. Snowflakes swirled around them, adding to their cover. They were in the cloud mass.
To Sam’s relief, Ken Redfeather pulled them out of the dive. They were flying level again. He searched through the windows on both sides. No sign of the chopper. They were safe. At least for the moment.
“Where are we anyway?” he wanted to know.
“On the border between British Columbia and Alberta,” Redfeather said.
“Not anywhere near Calgary, I suppose, since we haven’t stopped for refueling.”
“No, Calgary is still a long way off.”
Sam checked on Eve. “You holding up?”
“Just dandy,” she answered him dryly.
He guessed that was all the reassurance he was going to get. He wasn’t going to ask for more. He’d had enough of her obstinate crap. Besides, he had another concern to address. He switched his attention back to Redfeather.
“I don’t know about you, Ken, but I think it’s time you got on your radio and called out a distress. Let them know what’s happening up here.”
“I’ll try, but I’m not sure I’m in range of one of the towers. Bush pilots have been complaining for years about the dead zones out here.” Redfeather reached for his mike. “Let’s see if I can reach—” He broke off, staring in alarm down at the instrument