Page 87 of Hotter than Wildfire

There was no way she could overpower one of these men, let alone two.

She didn’t even have her wits about her. Her thought processes were slow, sluggish. Making any kind of plan required clear thinking and that was beyond her. Whatever they’d given her made it almost impossible to think straight.

Gerald was driving really fast now. Too fast. What kind of road could he be on that would allow him to race like this?

Though the car had that exceptional sound-proofing of expensive vehicles, the occasional dull roar filtered its way into the cabin, a sound that started low and increased in pitch. And a sharp smell penetrated, a smell both chemical and familiar.

With a wrench of the wheels, the car drove into some kind of shelter. The sun cut out immediately. As the car slowed down, it passed under something. Something long and metallic…a wing. An airplane wing. The car came to a stop, rocking her painfully forward then backward. She looked up out the window and saw the curved metal and rounded portholes of an airplane hull.

Even her dulled, hurting head was able to put it together. They’d reached an airport. Somehow they’d bypassed security and gone directly into a hangar and, oh God, a plane was right there.

Ellen shook. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the idea that somehow, she didn’t know how, but somehow Harry would find her. Would just come galloping to her rescue and prevail, because he was a good guy and the good guys always won, right? Superharry to the rescue, swooping down and saving the day.

Wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t happen.

Gerald and his—what? minion? henchman?—whatever he was, they were going to bundle her into a plane and she’d be lost forever. This wasn’t a scheduled flight on a plane belonging to an airline.

Ellen knew that Gerald operated two planes, one for executives in his company and one he reserved for his own personal use. A Gulfstream. She knew how much it had cost, second hand, how much it cost to operate, how much of that cost he deducted from his taxes.

This was probably his plane. He could fly out whenever he wanted, without asking anyone’s permission. He could fly anywhere he wanted.

Bearclaw had a small airfield of its own. Gerald’s pilots could land after dark and no one would ever know she’d been on the plane. If he did to her what he’d done to Arlen and that Mikowski and Roddy and poor Kerry—whatever that devil’s voice from hell said, Kerry was dead—well, Gerald owned over 7,000 acres of land, much of it swamp.

He could bury her where no one would ever find her. Not all the police officers and all the dogs in the world would find her.

She was lost and had no cards left to play.

Both front car doors opened as the men got out. Ellen squeezed her eyes shut. The only tiny advantage she had was the fact that they couldn’t know she’d regained consciousness. Drugs affected different people in different ways.

If she could just pretend she was still unconscious, she could…she could what?

Live.

Live just a few moments more. Feel her body, wracked with pain though it was. Breathe, even if it was dust and diesel fuel fumes. Think. Think of Harry and what, maybe, they might have had together.

Tears seeped from her eyes, though she didn’t have the use of her hands to wipe them.

Harry.

Would what they’d found be true, lasting? Oh God. Images, dense, full of the color and the weight of truth, flashed through her mind. Harry laughing, sipping wine while she cooked. She wasn’t much of a cook, but he loved her, he’d choke it down. Sitting with a half smile on his face while she sang for him. Unearthly joy on his face as he held their newborn child.

Hours, days, weeks, years spent together. Loving each other, loving their family. Their children would grow up together with Sam and Nicole’s children in a tight and loving circle, utterly protected and safe. So unlike her childhood and Harry’s. Mike would be a doting uncle.

Watching them grow up, day by day, year by year. She’d record songs, maybe play a few gigs in the San Diego area. Harry’s company would expand because he and Sam and Mike were so good at what they did. She’d keep their books because she was good at it.

At the end of the working day, a happy family to come home to. Christmases, Easters, birthdays, anniversaries. All celebrated with love.

The mess and fuss of kids. Fights, laughter, triumphs, the dramas of the young. They wouldn’t have to keep the tight rein on themselves she’d had to because there’d be solid earth beneath their feet.

Strong, happy kids. Kids who grew up to follow their dreams. She and Harry would grow older, weaker, happier. Grandkids…

It was all something that would happen to another Ellen and Harry, in an alternate universe. In this one, she’d disappear, and he’d mourn another lost one he couldn’t save.

She’d die, lose all that love and laughter and for what? So Gerald could keep his empire built on larceny and murder and greed. So he could kill with impunity. Just snuff out people’s lives because it suited him.

It was monstrous. He was a monster.

Thank God she’d emailed the FBI and thank God Harry and Mike and Sam had the information Nicole had uncovered. They’d make sure it got into FBI hands.