Beyond Fearless (13 page)

Yes, mechanical problems,
she silently whispered.
And if the plane goes down, you don't want the cops to find two people in the plane wearing handcuffs.

Zach picked up on the message and added his mental weight to the equation. When he did, she felt the power of the suggestion strengthen.

Together they kept broadcasting the message until two of the thugs ran toward them. One unlocked her handcuffs, while the other held a gun on her.

“Don't move,” he growled.

She nodded, her mental focus still on the man, willing him to unlock Zach's cuffs, too. But he only walked away, and her throat constricted in panic.

 

BACK
on Grand Fernandino, Raoul knelt in the shed where he'd been praying to Ibena. She had shown him where to find Anna. In a plane over the water. Flying far away from the island.

As soon as he realized what was happening, he had asked for Ibena's help again.

He had asked for a miracle. And his saint had given him one. She had done it. The pilot had turned around. He was coming back to the island.

“Thank you,” Raoul intoned, his gratitude heartfelt as he gazed up at the image of his goddess that he had fixed over the wooden altar. “Thank you for answering my prayers. I will make many sacrifices to you, here and at my other altars. And when Anna is at my side, we will devote ourselves to your worship.”

He rocked back on his heels, elated that Ibena had been so gracious to him.

She was fueling his power, raising him to a whole new level among men.

He should go to the airstrip outside of town where the plane had taken off.

The airstrip.

No. He had asked for a miracle. But he suddenly knew that it hadn't worked out the way he had expected.

 

ANNA
watched Bill, the shrimp who had come into the stateroom on the boat behind the big thugs, standing in the cockpit. “You can't turn around. Not now,” he shouted, grabbing at the pilot's shoulder.

“Get the hell off of me.” Hank swivelled around and swatted at the intruder, then went back to his controls.

Anna looked out the window. To their right, she could see a spot of land. Grand Fernandino!

In the front, the two men were struggling now, each trying to get control. And the angle of descent was much too steep. They were going to hit the water.

 

FAR
away, on the U.S. mainland, Jordan Walker didn't realize he had called Lindsay until she was in front of him, her arms open.

He went into them, clasping her tightly, drawing comfort from her, even as they joined their strength.

“I saw a plane,” he managed to say.

He opened his mind, and she pulled the images from him. A small plane. Over water. Anna Ridgeway in one of the seats. Another man across from her. And thugs, holding guns.

He hadn't known where to find Anna, but he knew that in a moment of dire emergency he had somehow mentally tapped into the scene.

The plane was in trouble. Winging down toward the blue water at a dangerous angle.

And Jordan knew they were going to crash.

We've got to…

He didn't have to tell Lindsay what to do. They were far away from the scene. They didn't even know the location of the emergency. But since they had first bonded, they had increased their psychic powers—and practiced their unique talents.

Combining their mental energy, they both sent their thoughts far away—toward the doomed craft. They pulled the nose up and slowed the plane's speed, praying that they could prevent complete disaster.

STRAIGHTEN OUT. STRAIGHTEN
out and climb, climb,
Zach silently shouted, thanking God that Bill had backed off and was letting Hank try to save their asses.

Anna joined him, frantically urging the pilot to gain altitude even as she checked to see that her seatbelt was fastened.

Again she felt an outside force joining with her and Zach.

The same man?

Or someone different? Someone far away—she sensed that much.

The source of help didn't matter. Not now.

Once, when she'd been in a plane where the landing gear was stuck, the passengers had been instructed in emergency procedures.

They'd been told to lean over and grasp their ankles.

She did that now, shouting at Zach to do the same thing.

In the long-ago emergency, the plane had made a rough but successful belly landing on a foam-covered runway.

This time, the water would have to do.

She breathed out a sigh as she felt the pilot pull the nose up so that they didn't go in head first. Instead, the plane's belly slammed into the water, throwing the thugs around the cabin. Since Anna and Zach were still strapped in and grasping their ankles, they came through the crash landing better than the others.

“Oh fuck. What the hell?” the pilot asked in a dazed voice as they floated on the waves

“You moron,” one of the other men shouted.

“Shut up. We've got to get out of here.”

Hank was already pulling down a life raft that was in a compartment near his head.

One of the thugs held his gun pointed at Anna and Zach as the pilot opened the door and pushed out the raft.

Uncuff Zach. You have to uncuff Zach. You don't want anyone to find him cuffed in the plane.

She sat there in terror, thinking it wasn't going to work, even with both her and Zach giving the suggestion. But finally one of the thugs turned and unlocked the cuffs, while one of his buddies still held them at gunpoint.

The guy who'd freed Zach snatched up both sets of restraints before making for the door.

The killers scrambled out, the last one still holding her and Zach at gunpoint in the plane while they climbed into the raft and began to paddle away.

Anna started toward the door. Zach held her arm.
Wait.

“But…we'll drown.”

“We've got a good chance in the water. We don't have any chance if they shoot us.”

Conceding the point, she stayed back from the door, watching the cabin slowly fill.

“Can you swim?” Zach asked urgently.

“Yes. I was on my high school swim team.”

“Thank God.”

He eyed her clothing. “Better take off your slacks and shoes. You can probably keep your shirt.”

He pulled off his jeans and kicked away his shoes while she did the same. He also threw his shirt on the floor, where it sloshed in the rising flood.

When she looked up, he was scanning the cabin. “The seat cushions should float.”

“Okay.”

He pulled one out and handed it to her. It had straps, and she slipped her arms through, hugging the cushion to her chest as she moved toward the door.

She watched Zach move about the cabin, opening compartments and snatching out items as though he had all the time in the world to pillage.

“Can I help?”

“Stay there.”

When Zach joined her again, she breathed out a sigh of relief. He was holding a sack with straps and a seal across the top.

“Waterproof. I've got some supplies,” he said as she eyed the bag. He had also thrust a knife into the webbing of the pack.

He looked out the door. “When we go into the water, kick away from the plane. In a direction away from the raft.”

“Okay.”

She grasped the edge of the door. The water was rising fast. When the opening was filled, would the plane be sucked down? Could they get out when it was under water?

She didn't know. But she could see that the raft was still pretty close to the plane, bobbing in the afternoon sunshine. She could also see that the men were having trouble controlling the light craft. They didn't seem to know how to paddle together. Probably they were all city boys who hadn't gotten much chance to enjoy water sports.

The killers had their own problems now, which gave her and Zach a better chance to get away.

When the raft drifted behind the plane, Zach took her arm. “Now. Go.”

She slipped out the door, sputtering as she went under and came up again. The water was cold at first, and a salty wave slapped her in the face, but her body quickly became accustomed to the temperature. Holding on to the cushion as she kicked away from the sinking plane, she could hear Zach right behind her.

They had gotten about thirty feet from the plane when she heard a shout.

“Over there! Get them.”

A shot hit the water, then another.

The thugs frantically maneuvered the craft, trying to get a better angle. When they did, she'd be a perfect target with her flotation device keeping her bobbing on the top of the water.

She had to get rid of the cushion. But when she tried to let go, her arm was tangled in the strap, and she struggled frantically to free it, while more bullets hit the water around them.

 

FAR
away from the scene, Jordan and Lindsay clung together, trying to view the events.

They're in the water.

Where?

I don't know!

Frustration bubbled inside them as they fought to connect with the man and woman in trouble.

Dariens. Like us.

But all that water is making it hard to tune in on them.

We need to know where they are.
Jordan tipped up his wife's chin and looked deep into her eyes. They were tackling a serious problem, yet the road to success might be reached through the garden of their own pleasure.

You think?
she asked, a smile in her voice.

Uh-huh. Closer contact.

Since they'd bonded, they'd been working to increase their psychic powers. And they'd found that Tantric intimacy was sometimes the key to success.

Jordan had read that the essence of Tantra was supposed to be the merging of their sexual energy with the energy of the universe. He'd never been into mysticism—until he'd connected mind to mind with Lindsay. But since their bonding, they'd explored some strange techniques and found that a Tantric union fired both their physical and mental energy systems.

Supposedly, it created a polarity charge that connected with the primordial energy from which everything arises in the universe…the totality of All.

He wasn't sure what that meant. He only knew that it seemed to work—if they could focus on the problem they needed to solve and not their own pleasure.

Lindsay reached for his hand, and they walked together to the bedroom, then stood beside the bed, rubbing their lips against each other's, stroking their hands over taut flesh, working buttons and zippers.

Lindsay pulled off her shirt. Jordan did the same, then reached around to unhook her bra. When he pulled her naked breasts against his chest, they both sighed with the pleasure of the contact.

Still wearing his shorts, he rubbed his hips against hers, deliberately keeping a layer of clothing between them to slow down the pace.

He felt her arousal building along with his, felt the delicious merging of his consciousness with Lindsay's.

She slipped her hands inside his shorts, massaging his buttocks as they swayed together, like two halves of one whole.

When she eased her upper body away so that he could caress her breasts, he teased her hardened nipples with his thumbs and fingers.

The intensity built. And when standing became too difficult for both of them, she slid his shorts down his legs, and he kicked them away. He lay down on the bed, gazing up at her, treating himself to a view of her beautiful body before she climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. Raising up, she slowly sheathed his cock, smiling down at him as they joined.

Their bodies and their minds. Fully, deeply. Like no other lovers in the history of the world.

Still sitting, she allowed them both a few slow, languid strokes before leaning forward and straightening her legs so that she was lying on top of him, her body pressed to the length of his.

He clasped his hands around her back, holding her to him as they rolled to the side, still joined together.

She let him take over then, moving his hips just enough to keep the sexual tension simmering as they locked their minds into perfect harmony, then sent their thoughts outward, looking for Anna Ridgeway and the man who had been captive with her on the doomed airplane.

His name is Zach. I can't get the last name. She just calls him Zach.

Where are they?

I still don't know.

I see the water. Endless water. No
—
wait. There's a raft full of…Oh, Lord, the bad guys are shooting at them. And she can't get her arms out of that cushion so she can dive.

Can we help her?

I…don't know.

 

ZACH
swam to Anna. Before he reached her, she somehow yanked the strap away and freed her arms. She would have shouted in relief if she hadn't been filling her lungs with air.

Flipping to her stomach, she dove downward, propelling herself with strong kicks and wondering how far a bullet could effectively penetrate under the water.

Sound seemed magnified in the liquid environment. She heard a slapping noise close by.

The men in the raft!

They sounded like they were on top of her, but when she looked up frantically, she saw nothing. The water must be making them seem closer.

Would one of them take off his clothes and dive in after them? Well, he'd get his gun wet if he did. Or would that matter? She didn't even know.

Through a school of small yellow and black fish, she saw Zach swimming toward her. He moved off to the left again, then looked around to make sure she was coming with him.

She followed him through another group of colorful fish, staying below the surface the way he did.

She tried to reach his mind with hers, but she couldn't do it. Maybe they'd used up their supply of psychic powers. Or maybe this kind of physical stress simply added too much interference.

As she pulled up beside him, she felt her lungs begin to burn. He was used to diving. She wasn't. And she knew she'd need air soon.

She tugged on his arm and pointed upward.

As she held his arm, she did pick up a message from him.
Just stick your face out, then go right down again.

Okay.

Zach held back, waiting until she was close to the top. She grabbed a breath of air. When he surfaced, he heard gunshots again and went down.
Shit!
he cursed in her mind.

She knew they had to put distance between themselves and the raft. When Zach took off to the left, she followed, then stopped short when she saw gray shapes gliding through the water just ahead of them.

Sharks. Monster sharks. They were so close that they looked like they were ten feet long. Although maybe that was an exaggeration.

Sharks!
she silently screamed. But Zach kept going—right into danger. She hurried to catch him, reaching out and tugging on his leg.

Stop!