He didn’t gasp in surprise and ask how she could possibly know that, but she explained anyway. “It takes something like five hours to fly from San Antonio to Caracas. The Cayman Islands are about halfway there, and I’m pretty sure both Havana and Cancun would be half an hour or so before that. I was always really good at geography,” she added, simply because his staring was making her nervous again and Abigail babbled when she was nervous. That’s also why she continued talking.
“Most kids hated geography in my class, but I always wanted to travel so I researched maps and atlases and stuff, memorizing where places were.”
He hadn’t moved, at all. Abigail began to worry that the drug had done him some harm, but babbled on. “My mom always wanted to travel too. She wanted to go to one of those resorts on St. Lucia or the Cayman Islands. I promised her we’d go once she recovered. To keep her spirits up while she was going through chemo, we used to research those places and look up stuff like how long the flights were to get there, what the wildlife was like, what there was to see and so on . . .”
Still nothing. Was he even breathing? she wondered with a little concern.
“What’s your name?” she asked abruptly. It was a good way to see if he was still alive and breathing and not just a corpse lounging in the corner staring at her with dead eyes. Besides, she simply couldn’t keep thinking of him as the guy or fellow, and she wanted to know what his name was. She was guessing it would be something sexy like—
“Tomasso Notte.”
Yeah, that was sexy, Abigail decided. At least it was the way he said it. It was also a relief that he was still alive, she thought, and considered him briefly. She’d noted that he had a bit of an accent before this, but now thought she had it pegged and asked, “Italian?”
Tomasso nodded, but didn’t expand on the comment. He obviously wasn’t the talkative type. And she wished he’d stop staring at her like that. She didn’t think he’d taken his eyes off her face since they’d opened. Abigail supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, there wasn’t much else to look at, but it was the way he was looking at her that was making her a bit uncomfortable. He was focused on her like he was trying to cut through her head with his eyes or something.
Maybe he couldn’t see her well in this light, she thought suddenly and glanced down to note that the flashlight beam was squarely on him where she’d left it. None of the light was really reaching her. It probably left her a slightly darker shadow in the darkness around them.
That thought was a bit reassuring and Abigail was just starting to relax when he suddenly announced, “I’m hungry.”
It wasn’t the words so much as his fixed stare on her that made her anxious when he said that. It gave her the distinct impression that he was considering her for his next meal. Telling herself she was being silly, Abigail forced a smile and scooted quickly backward out of the cage, saying, “I have a chocolate bar in my bag. I’ll get it.”
This time she was relieved when he didn’t move or speak. Straightening outside the cage, Abigail scurried around it to where she’d left her bag. She hadn’t thought to bring the flashlight, but since it was pointed in this direction, she had no trouble seeing and quickly knelt to scoop it up. She straightened with it in hand and, now out of the light, began rifling blindly through it in search of the promised chocolate bar. Her hand had just closed over the bar when she felt heat along her back and a warm breath stirring her hair.
Abigail didn’t have to look to know the man was right behind her. She could feel it in the goose bumps that had suddenly risen from the back of her neck, all the way down to the backs of her ankles.
“It’s an Oh Henry bar,” she babbled nervously. “I like nuts.” Her words died on a squeak as his arms slid around her from behind, crossed at her waist and urged her back against him. Now the heat from his body seemed to be pouring into hers and warming her wherever they touched, her back, her bottom, the backs of her legs.
“I—” It was as far as she got before his hand rose to catch her chin and turn her face up and back so that he could kiss her.
Abigail’s eyes widened incredulously as his mouth covered hers. This kind of thing just did not happen to her. Big, hunky, naked men just did not kiss her out of the blue. And damnnnnn, he was a good kisser, she thought faintly and felt her eyelids begin to droop closed as her body responded to the caress.
Realizing what she was doing, Abigail forced her eyes back open and tried to fight the excitement he was stirring to life within her, but his hands were moving now, sliding to her breasts and covering them through her clothes.
Abigail moaned into his mouth as he cupped and squeezed her hungry flesh, and found herself kissing him back. She hadn’t intended to. She’d intended to fight the sensations rising up in her, but it was like trying to hold back high tide, or keeping the sun from rising. The man was stirring things in her that had been too long denied. Only the fact that he was a complete stranger and that her mother was now up in heaven, maybe able to see what she was up to, made her tear her mouth away and gasp desperately, “I thought you were hungry?”
“Mmm hmm,” he murmured, and brushed the hair away from the side of her neck to plant a kiss there and then lick the sensitive area. Abigail was so distracted by the sensation that she almost missed the fact that one hand had left her breast and was gliding downward. Almost. Once it registered, however, she dropped her bag and reached down with her free hand to catch his in an effort to try to stop it.
“Tomasso, I don’t think we should be—” This time her words ended on a gasp as his hand continued down despite her best efforts to halt its progress, and slid between her legs to pour molten lava there. Dear God, she was on fire, she thought faintly as the combination of his hands on her body and his mouth at her throat stirred her into a frenzy.
“This is so crazy stupid,” she moaned as his fingers massaged her through her tight jeans. “We’re in the cargo of a plane . . . flying to Venezuela . . . with kidnappers in the cock . . . pet,” she groaned and then muttered, “I meant cockpit.”
“Cockpit,” he agreed by her ear before nibbling his way back down her throat.
“Yes,” Abigail breathed, but was quite sure he knew it wasn’t in response to what he’d said. The hand she had covering his was now urging him on, and her body was moving of its own volition, pressing into the hand at her breast, and shifting under the hand between her legs, and Abigail knew without a doubt that she wasn’t the only one affected by this action. She could feel the proof of his excitement pressing into her lower back and thought that she was so damned short that he’d have to lift her up to—
“Oh God,” Abigail cried as her mind filled with an image of his stripping her jeans and panties away, and then turning and raising her up against the wall so that he could slide into her. The vision was so real and so damned exciting that it pushed her over the edge he’d been driving her toward. Barely noticing the pinch at her neck and the drawing sensation that followed, Abigail cried out and bucked in his arms as the flashlight went out and darkness consumed her.
Three
The first thing Abigail became aware of was that there was a heavy weight pressing down on her back and that she could hardly breathe. Concerned by this realization, she shifted slightly, and then stilled as a warm breath stirred the hair by her ear. The heavy weight was Tomasso, she realized. The same Tomasso who was a complete stranger and whom she’d been grinding up against just moments ago. At least she hoped it was only moments ago. But for all she knew, she could have been unconscious for hours.
That thought made her still and listen for the hum of the plane engine. Much to her relief Abigail not only heard it, but was quite sure she could feel it vibrating through her body from the floor. They were still in the air then. Thank God! There was still time to prepare. She just had to get Hercules off her back and . . .
Actually, she didn’t have a clue what they should do then. She had no idea how they were going to get out of this situation. Should they rush the cockpit before they landed and attack Jet’s clients, counting on surprise to help them in their endeavor?