Nightshade Page 11

  “Navy man. Broke his heart when I joined the air force.” Colt shrugged. “That’s probably why I did it. Then I have this aunt … Well, better you should meet them for yourself.”

  “I’m not meeting your family,” she said again, annoyed that the statement sounded more petulant than firm. She unstrapped herself and marched back into the tiny galley, rooting about until she found a can of nuts and a bottle of mineral water. Curiosity had her opening the small refrigerated compartment and studying a tin of caviar and a bottle of Beaujolais. “Whose plane is this?”

  “Some friend of Boyd’s. A weekend jockey who likes to take women up.”

  Her answer to that was a grunt as she came back to take her seat. “Must be Frank the lecher. He’s been after me to fly the sexy skies for years.” She chose a cashew.

  “Oh, yeah? Not your type?”

  “He’s so obvious. But then, men tend to be.”

  “I’ll have to remind myself to be subtle. You going to share those?”

  She offered the can. “Is that Boulder?”

  “Yep. I’m going to track northwest from here, circle around some. Boyd tells me he has a cabin up here.”

  “Yes. Lots of people do. They like to escape from the city on weekends and tramp through the snow.”

  “Not your speed?”

  “I don’t see any purpose for snow unless you’re skiing. And the main purpose of skiing, as far as I’m concerned, is coming back to a lodge and having hot buttered rum in front of a fire.”

  “Ah, you’re the adventurous type.”

  “I live for adventure. Actually, Boyd’s place does have a nice view.” she admitted. “And the kids get a big kick out of it.”

  “So you’ve been there.”

  “A few times. I like it better in late spring, early summer, when there isn’t much chance of the roads being closed.” She glanced down at the patchy snow in the foothills. “I hate the thought of being stuck.”

  “It might have its advantages.”

  “Not for me.” She was silent for a time, watching hills and trees take over from city and suburbs. “It is pretty,” she conceded. “Especially from up here. Like a segment on public television.”

  He grinned at that. “Nature at a distance? I thought city girls always yearned for a country retreat.”

  “Not this city girl. I’d rather—” There was a violent bump that sent nuts flying and had Althea grabbing for a handhold. “What the hell was that?”

  Narrow-eyed, Colt studied his gauges while he fought to bring the nose of the plane back up. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? What do you mean, you don’t know? You’re supposed to know!”

  “Shh!” He tilted his head to listen hard to the engines. “We’re losing pressure,” he said, with the icy calm that had kept him alive in war-torn jungles, in deserts and in skies alive with flak.

  Once she understood that the trouble was serious, Althea responded in kind. “What do we do?”

  “I’m going to have to set her down.”

  Althea looked down, studying the thick trees and rocky hills fatalistically. “Where?”

  “According to the map, there’s a valley a few degrees east.” Colt adjusted the course, fighting the wheel as he jiggled switches. “Watch for it,” he ordered, then flipped on his radio. “Boulder tower, this is Baker Able John three.”

  “There.” Althea pointed to what looked to be a very narrow spit of flat land between jagged peaks. Colt nodded, and continued to inform the tower of his situation.

  “Hang on,” he told her. “It’s going to be a little rough.”

  She braced herself, refusing to look away as the land rushed up to meet them. “I heard you were good, Nightshade.”

  “You’re about to find out.” He cut speed, adjusting for the drag of currents as he finessed the plane toward the narrow valley.

  Like threading a needle, Althea thought. Then she sucked in her breath at the first vicious thud of wheels on land. They bounced, teetered, shook, then rolled to a gentle halt.

  “You okay?” Colt asked instantly.

  “Yeah.” She let out a breath. Her stomach was inside out, but apart from that she thought she was all in one piece. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

  “Dandy.” He reached out, grabbed her face in both of his hands and dragged her, straining against her seat belt, close enough to kiss. “By damn, Lieutenant,” he said, and kissed her again, hard. “You never flinched. Let’s elope.”

  “Can it.” When a woman was used to level emotions, it was difficult to know what to do when she had the urge to laugh and scream simultaneously. She shoved him away. “You want to let me out of this thing? I could use some solid ground under my feet.”

  “Sure.” He released the door, even helped her alight. “I’m going to radio in our position,” he told her.

  “Fine.” Althea took a deep gulp of fresh, cold air and tried out her legs. Not too wobbly, she discovered, pleased. All in all, she’d handled her first—and hopefully last—forced landing rather well. She had to give Colt credit, she mused as she looked around. He’d chosen his spot, and he’d made it work.

  She didn’t get down on her knees and kiss the ground, but she was grateful to feel it under her. As an added bonus, the view was magnificent. They were cupped between mountain and forest, sheltered from the wind, low enough to look up at the snow cascading down from the rocky peaks without being inconvenienced by it.

  There was a good clean scent to the air, a clear blue sky overhead, and a bracing chill that stirred the blood. With any luck, a rescue could be accomplished within the hour, so she could afford to enjoy the scenery without being overwhelmed by the solitude.

  She was feeling in tune with the world when she heard Colt clamber out of the cockpit. She even smiled at him.

  “So, when are they coming to get us?”

  “Who?”

  “Them. Rescue people. You know, those selfless heroes who get people out of tricky situations such as this.”

  “Oh, them. They’re not.” He dropped a tool chest on the ground, then went back inside for a short set of wooden steps.

  “Excuse me?” Althea managed when she found her voice. She knew it was an illusion, but the mountains suddenly seemed to loom larger. “Did you say no one’s coming to get us? Isn’t the radio working?”

  “Works fine.” Colt climbed on the steps and uncovered the engine. He’d already stuck a rag in the back pocket of his jeans. “I told them I’d see if I could do the repairs on-site and keep in contact.”

  “You told them—” She moved fast, before either of them understood her intention. Her first swing caught him in the kidneys and had him tumbling off the steps. “You idiot! What do you mean, you’ll do the repairs?” She swung again, but he dodged, more baffled than annoyed. “This isn’t a Ford broken down on the highway, Nightshade. We haven’t got a damn flat tire.”

  “No,” he said carefully, braced and ready for her next move. “I think it’s the carburetor.”

  “You think it’s—” Her breath whistled out through her teeth, and her eyes narrowed. “That’s it. I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

  She launched herself at him. Colt made a split-second decision, pivoted, and let her momentum carry them both to the ground. It only took him another second to realize the lady was no slouch at hand-to-hand. He took one on the chin that snapped his teeth together. It looked like it was time to get serious.

  He scissored his legs around her and managed, after a short, grunting tussle, to roll her onto her back. “Hold on, will you? Somebody’s going to get hurt!”

  “You’re damn right.”

  Since reason wouldn’t work, he used his weight, levering himself over her as he cuffed her wrists with his hands. She bucked twice, then went still. They both knew she was only biding her time until she found an opening.

  “Listen.” He gave himself another moment to catch his breath, then spoke directly into her ear. “It was th
e most logical alternative.”

  “That’s bull.”

  “Let me explain. If you still disagree afterward, we’ll go for two falls out of three. Okay?” When she didn’t respond, Colt set his teeth. “I want your word you won’t take another punch at me until I finish.”

  It was a pity he couldn’t see her expression at that moment. “Fine,” Althea said tightly. Cautious, Colt eased back until he could watch her face. He was halfway into a sitting position when she brought her knee solidly into his crotch.

  He didn’t have the breath to curse her as he rolled into a ball.

  “That wasn’t a punch,” she pointed out. She took the time to smooth back her hair, brush down her parka, before she rose. “Okay, Nightshade, let’s hear it.”

  He only lifted a hand, made a couple of woofing noises, and waited for the stars to fade from behind his eyes. “You may have endangered our bloodline, Thea.” He got creakily to his knees, breathing shallowly. “You fight dirty.”

  “It’s the only way to fight. Spill it.”

  As his strength returned, he shot her a killing look. “I owe you. I owe you big. We’re not injured,” he ground out. “At least I wasn’t until you started on me. The plane’s undamaged. If you’ll take a look around, you’ll see that there isn’t room to land another plane safely. They could send a copter, lift us out, but for what? Odds are, if I make a few minor adjustments I can fly us out.”

  Maybe it made sense, Althea thought. Maybe. But it didn’t alter one simple fact. “You should have consulted me. I’m here, too, Nightshade. You had no right to make that decision on your own.”

  “My mistake.” He turned to walk—limp—back to the steps. “I figured you were the logical type and, being a public servant, wouldn’t want to see other public servants pulled out for an unnecessary rescue. And, damn it, Liz might be over that ridge.” With a violent clatter, he pulled a wrench from the toolbox. “I’m not going back without her.”

  Oh, he would have to push that button, Althea thought as she turned away to stare into the deep green of the neighboring forest. He would have to let her hear that terrible worry in his voice, see the fire of it in his eyes.

  He would have to be perfectly and completely right.

  Pride was the hardest of all pills to swallow. Making the effort, she turned back and walked to stand beside the steps. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  His response was a grunt.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  He looked back down at her then, with a gleam in his eyes that would have made lesser women grovel. “Only when I breathe.”

  She smiled and patted his leg. “Try to think about something else. Do you want me to hand you tools or something?”

  His eyes only narrowed farther, until they were thin blue slits. “Do you know the difference between a ratchet and a torque wrench?”

  “No.” She tossed her hair back. “Why should I? I have a perfectly competent mechanic to look after my car.”

  “And if you break down on the highway?”

  She sent him a pitying look. “What do you think?”

  He ground his teeth and went back to the carburetor. “If I made a comment like that, you’d call it sexist.”

  She grinned behind his back, but when she spoke, her voice was sober. “Why is calling a tow truck sexist? I think there’s some instant coffee in the galley,” she continued. “I’ll make some.”

  “It isn’t smart to use the battery,” he muttered. “We’ll make do with soft drinks.”

  “No problem.”

  When she returned twenty minutes later, Colt was cursing the engine. “This friend of Boyd’s should be shot for taking such haphazard care of his equipment.”

  “Are you going to fix it or not?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to fix it.” He found several interesting names to call a bolt he was fighting to loosen. “It’s just going to take a little longer than I expected.” Prepared for some pithy comment, he glanced down. She merely stood there patiently, the breeze ruffling her hair. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding down at her hands.

  “I think it’s called a sandwich.” She held up the bread and cheese for his inspection. “Not much of one, but I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Yeah, I am.” The gesture mollified him somewhat. He lifted his hands and showed her palms and fingers streaked with grease. “I’m a little handicapped.”

  “Okay. Bend over.” When he obeyed, she brought the bread to his mouth. They watched each other over it as he took a bite.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I found a beer.” She pulled the bottle out of her pocket and tipped it back. “We’ll share.” Then she held it to his lips. “Now I know I love you.”

  “Just eat.” She fed him more of the sandwich. “Do you have any idea how much longer it’s going to take you to get us airborne?”

  “Yeah.” And because he did, he made sure he got his full share of the beer and the sandwich before he told her. “It’ll be an hour, maybe two.”

  She blinked. “Two hours? We’ll have run out of daylight by then. You don’t plan to fly this out of here in the dark?”

  “No, I don’t.” Though he remained braced for a sneak attack, he went back to the engine. “It’ll be safer to wait until morning.”

  “Until morning,” she repeated, staring at his back. “And just what are we supposed to do until morning?”

  “Pitch a tent, for starters. There’s one in the cabin, in the overhead. I guess old Frank likes to take his ladies camping.”

  “That’s great. Just great. You’re telling me we have to sleep out here?”

  “We could sleep in the plane,” he pointed out. “But it wouldn’t be as comfortable, or as warm, as stretching out in a tent beside a fire.” He began to whistle as he worked. He’d said he owed her one. He hadn’t realized he’d be able to pay her back so soon, or so well. “I don’t suppose you know how to start a campfire.”

  “No, I don’t know how to start a damn campfire.”

  “Weren’t you ever a Girl Scout?”

  She made a sound like steam escaping a funnel. “No. Were you?”

  “Can’t say I was—but I was friendly with a few of them. Well, you go on and gather up some twigs, darling. I’ll talk you through your first merit badge.”

  “I am not going to gather twigs.”

  “Okay, but it’s going to get cold once that sun goes down. A fire keeps the chill—and other things—away.”

  “I’m not—” She broke off, looked uneasily around. “What other things?”

  “Oh, you know. Deer, elk … wildcats …”

  “Wildcats.” Her hand went automatically to her shoulder rig. “There aren’t any wildcats around here.”

  He lifted his head and glanced around as if considering. “Well, it might be too early in the year yet. But they do start coming down from the higher elevations near winter. Of course, if you want to wait until I’ve finished here, I’ll get a fire going. May be dark by then, though.”

  He was doing it on purpose. She was sure of it. But then again … She cast another look around, toward the forest, where the shadows were lengthening. “I’ll get the damn wood,” she muttered, and stomped off toward the trees. After she checked her weapon.

  He watched her, smiling. “We’re going to do just fine together,” he said to himself. “Just fine.”

  * * *

  Following Colt’s instructions, Althea managed to start a respectable fire within a circle of stones. She didn’t like it, but she did it. Then, because he claimed to be deeply involved in the final repairs to the plane, she was forced to rig the tent.

  It was a lightweight bubble that Colt declared would nearly erect itself. After twenty minutes of struggle and swearing, she had it up. A narrow-eyed study showed her that it would shelter the two of them—as long as they slept hip to hip.

  She was still staring at it, ignoring the chill of the dusk, when she heard the e
ngine spring to life.

  “Good as new,” Colt shouted, then shut off the engines. “I have to clean up,” he told her. He leapt out of the cabin, holding a jug of water. He used it sparingly, along with a can of degreaser from the toolbox. “Nice job,” he said, nodding toward the tent.

  “Thanks a bunch.”

  “There are blankets in the plane. We’ll do well enough.” Still crouched, he drew in a deep breath, tasting smoke and pine and good, crisp air. “Nothing quite like camping out in the hills.”

  She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  He finished scrubbing his hands with a rag before he rose. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done any camping.”

  “All right, I won’t tell you.”

  “What do you do for a vacation?”

  She arched a brow. “I go to a hotel,” she said precisely. “Where they have room service, hot and cold running water and cable TV.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I suppose I’m about to find out.” She shivered once, sighed. “I could use a drink.”

  * * *

  In addition to the Beaujolais, they feasted on rich, sharp cheese, caviar and thin crackers spread with a delicate pâté.

  All in all, Althea decided, it could have been worse.

  “Not like any camp meal I’ve ever had,” Colt commented as he scooped more caviar onto a cracker. “I thought I’d have to go kill us a rabbit.”

  “Please, not while I’m eating.” Althea sipped more wine and found herself oddly relaxed. The fire did indeed keep the chill away. And it was soothing to watch it flicker and hiss. Overhead, countless stars wheeled and winked, stabbing the cloudless black sky. A quarter-moon silvered the trees and lent a glow to the snow capping the peaks that circled them.

  She’d stopped jerking every time an owl hooted.

  “Pretty country.” Colt lit an after-dinner cigar. “I never spent much time here before.”

  Neither had she, Althea realized, though she’d lived in Denver for a dozen years. “I like the city,” she said, more to herself than Colt. She picked up a stick to stir the fire, not because it needed it, but because it was fun to watch the sparks fly.

  “Why?”

  “I guess because it’s crowded. Because you can find anything you want. And because I feel useful there.”

  “And that’s important to you, feeling useful.”

  “Yeah, it’s important.”

  He watched the way the flames cast shadow and light over her face, highlighting her eyes, sharpening her cheekbones, softening her skin. “It was rough on you, growing up.”

  “It’s over.” When he took her hand, she neither resisted nor responded. “I don’t talk about it,” she said flatly. “Ever.”

  “All right.” He could wait. “We’ll talk about something else.” He brought her hand to his lips, and felt a response, just a slight flexing, then relaxing, of her fingers. “I guess you never told stories around the campfire.”

  She smiled. “I guess not.”

  “I could probably think of one—just to pass the time. Lie or truth?”

  She started to laugh, but then she shot to her feet, whipping out her weapon. Colt’s reaction was lightning-fast. In an instant he was beside her, shoving her back, his own gun slapped from his boot into his palm.

  “What?” he demanded, his eyes narrowed and searching every shadow.

  “Did you hear that? There’s something out there.”

  He cocked an ear, while she instinctively shifted to guard his back. After a moment of throbbing silence, he heard a faint rustling, then the far-off cry of a coyote. The plaintive call had Althea’s blood drumming.

  Colt swore, but at least he didn’t laugh. “Animals,” he told her, bending to replace his gun.