That seemed a bit risky. Jet could get hurt in the tussle and they could crash.
So, maybe they should wait until the plane was on the ground and tackle the men as they came to retrieve their “cargo.” That too seemed risky. The men might have weapons.
Perhaps they should just wait until the plane landed, slip into the cabin when Jet knocked to announce that it was all clear, grab Jet and flee the plane for the airport. Surely they would find help there? She considered that plan and found all sorts of holes at once. What if Jet knocked as he left the cabin and they weren’t able to catch him before he was outside? She didn’t want to leave him to the mercies of his kidnapping clients. There was also the possibility that should they manage to catch Jet before he left the cockpit, they might all be shot in the back as they fled the plane for the airport.
“You smell good.”
Abigail stilled and turned her head slightly, trying to see the man on top of her. She’d actually managed to forget he was there despite her problems breathing. Now she recalled him, though, and how they’d landed in this position, or at least what they’d been doing before she’d fainted like a sissy from the strength of the first orgasm she’d had in what seemed like forever. Damn, it had been good, and it never should have happened. She had more respect for herself than this, or she should anyway. That’s what her mother would have said.
Grimacing at the thought, Abigail opened her mouth to ask Tomasso to let her up, but then closed it when she felt him shift and his weight was suddenly removed from her. Oddly enough, she immediately missed his warmth and was sorry that moving was necessary.
Abigail began to push herself to her hands and knees to get up as well, and then gasped when she was caught by the waist and lifted to her feet as if she weighed nothing. This time she didn’t make a crack about his hurting himself if he kept doing things like that as she’d done with Jet. Tomasso obviously hadn’t got a good look at her yet and had no idea how large she was, and she’d like to keep it that way. Of course, she knew he’d see her eventually, but she’d like to put that off as long as possible. Abigail had no desire to witness the disappointment that would no doubt come when he saw just how rounded she was.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a rumble.
“Yes,” Abigail murmured primly and then bent to retrieve her backpack. It too had apparently been crushed, but by both of them. The chocolate bar, when she found it again, was a little the worse for wear because of it, but she offered it to him anyway.
“Thank you,” he murmured, taking the chocolate bar. He then slid an arm around her waist, pulled her forward and bent to kiss her. Caught in the act of starting to say “you’re welcome,” Abigail found her mouth suddenly full of tongue before the words could leave her lips. And delicious tongue it was. Still, she was startled enough that it took a moment for her to respond to the kiss. But when his hands slid over her bottom, then cupped her cheeks to lift her so that there was full body contact as they kissed, Abigail began to respond.
Like the last time he’d touched her, things got heated pretty quickly, and Abigail was just thinking they were going to end up back on the floor in a heap again, when he suddenly broke the kiss and set her back down.
“Later,” he promised, then turned away and disappeared into the darkness.
Abigail blinked after him, her mind slow to recover from the passionate if brief interlude. Damn, the man was like a match to her tinder. All he had to do was touch her and she went up in flames, burning all her good intentions to behave.
Shaking her head, she focused her gaze, trying to pinpoint where Tomasso was. He hadn’t moved back to the cage where the flashlight was and was nowhere its light touched, which admittedly wasn’t a large expanse of the cargo area.
Abigail almost went to fetch the flashlight from the cage to find him, but then recalled that there was still one on the wall nearby and felt around until her hand brushed against it. The next moment she’d pulled it free and turned it on and was swinging it around the cargo area in search of Tomasso.
She found him down by the parachute she’d discovered earlier. He was examining it with interest, she noted, and wondered what he was thinking. She supposed he could escape using it, but it would really leave her and Jet in a pickle. The men would find him missing, find her there, know she’d released him and probably kill both her and Jet. Or take them to the island the one fellow had mentioned. Neither option sounded like a good one, so Abigail was more than relieved when he left the parachute in place and moved on.
A moment later he stopped again, this time to examine a set of buttons on the wall by the back of the cargo area. Abigail had no idea what they did. If he did, he didn’t say anything, but instead turned and started back towards her, asking, “How long have we been flying now?”
Abigail glanced down at her watch, her eyebrows rising. They’d been unconscious longer than she’d realized, or at least she had and she assumed he had also since he’d been lying on top of her when she’d woken. He, of course, had more of an excuse for fainting since he was no doubt still suffering from the aftereffects of the drug.
“A little over four hours,” she admitted solemnly. By her estimate, they had less than an hour before they set down in Caracas.
“Can you grab the first aid kit?” he asked.
“Of course,” she murmured and turned to where it was affixed to the wall, suddenly worried that his arm was bothering him after all. It took her a bit of time to get the first aid kit from its holder. The moment she did though, Abigail hurried to Tomasso’s side.
“I saw some ointment and bandages in there earlier. I can bandage up your arm for you if you—” The words stopped abruptly as she saw that he had paused beside the parachute and donned it while her back was turned. “Tomasso, what are you—”
Her words ended on a grunt of surprise when he caught her around the waist and dragged her to his side. Her surprise was not eased when he then hitched her up onto his hip as if she was nothing more than a child.
“Wrap your arms and legs around me,” he ordered as he strode back toward the cargo door. “And hold on to that first aid kit.”
“What—” she began with alarm, only to swallow her words as he hit one of the buttons he’d been examining earlier and the cargo door began to open, dropping slowly downward like a lower jaw would. She gaped at the growing opening with alarm and then turned to Tomasso, gasping, “But Jet—” It was too late, however. Even as she said her friend’s name Tomasso was stepping out into thin air, and taking her with him. Panicking, Abigail pushed at his chest and twisted away from him, grunting in pain when her head slammed into something hard just before the lights went out.
Tomasso caught the first aid kit as it slipped from Abigail’s hand and peered worriedly back up toward the plane he’d just jumped out of. He half expected it to turn and come back to look for them, but it didn’t. That made him wonder. If his kidnappers were aware he’d escaped, he was quite sure they’d want to turn back, and he didn’t doubt they’d force the pilot to do so. They had to know the cargo door was open, and the minute they knew, he was sure they’d go back and check to see what was happening. Tomasso was pretty sure that there must be some kind of light or warning that would come on in the cockpit so the pilot would know when the cargo door opened. If not, there should be.
On the other hand, maybe they wouldn’t bother to turn back. What could they do? Fly under them and try to somehow force them back into the plane? That would take some fancy aeronautics, he was sure. He supposed it was more likely they would set down at the nearest airport that would give them permission to land, and then strike out in a boat to search for them.
That made sense, Tomasso decided, and turned his worried gaze to Abigail. She was lying limp in his hold, her head back so that all he could presently see was her chin and the two small puncture wounds on her throat from where he’d bit her earlier. It had been a necessity. Tomasso hadn’t fed in several days by his guess, and he’d needed to be strong if the escape was to be successful. He raised his arm slightly, managing to tip her head up a bit, and let his gaze shift from the small puncture marks to her face, but he couldn’t see much. Her head was still tilted back, so that the wound was out of his view. He needed to see her head, though. The crazy woman had thrown herself backward just as they’d dropped out of the plane. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, he probably would have dropped her when she did it. As it was, she’d tossed her head back enough that she’d banged it on the cargo door as they’d dropped out of the plane and had knocked herself out. That had definitely not been part of the plan.