Honor went white. “Damn you!” she whispered savagely.
“Come here, Honor,” he ordered quietly. “Don’t make me drag you through the streets to the plane and back.”
It was a small thing, this business of ordering her to cross the room and accompany him, but Honor sensed immediately that he was doing it deliberately. Judd was establishing the rules, making it clear that he was in charge. He probably thought that if he took a firm enough position she would simply give up and stop fighting him. As far as he was concerned she was a spoiled brat who happened to be nearly thirty. Spoiled brats were traditionally best handled by a dose of discipline.
Didn’t he realize that when you were fighting for your life you didn’t play by anyone else’s rules?
Still, this was not the time to go into battle. Common sense dictated that she give an appearance, at least, of resigning herself to her lot. Honor’s sensitive mouth tightened ominously but she silently crossed the room.
“That’s better,” Judd approved, opening the door. “Behave yourself and we’ll get along just fine.”
Perhaps, Honor decided objectively, it wouldn’t be so difficult using the gun on him later! The man had it coming.
The Cessna 185/Skywagon was perched in the desert on the side of the dirt road into town. In the moonlight Honor could see the high wings and the old-fashioned tailwheel. It was painted a light color, difficult to discern in the shadows. She hated it on sight. Up until now there had been a pleasant feeling of isolation and remoteness about the small Mexican village. There were few cars in town and only a weekly bus. The plane removed that sensation of being out of touch with civilization. Once on board the Cessna she would be lost.
Judd opened the cabin door on the pilot’s side and reached into the cockpit to remove a small, weather-beaten overnight bag. Honor watched in silence as he checked the inside of the cabin and then she waited a few more minutes while he verified that the wheels were firmly chocked. She watched his hand linger for another few seconds on the tail as he gave a last assessing glance at the preparations he had made, and suddenly Honor realized that he must have already checked out the plane for the night. The current attention was probably wholly unnecessary. But there was something in the way he touched the metal and eyed the wheels that annoyed her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
“Is that plane the only thing you care about? You act as if you’re tucking it in for the night!” she muttered disgustedly.
‘The plane and I have an understanding,” he told her dryly. “I take care of it and it takes care of me. As a companion it has definite virtues. No tantrums, no back talk, no arguments.”
“How dull for you!” Honor spun around on her heel, plunged her hands disconsolately into the back pockets of her jeans and started back along the road into town.
“I suppose it would seem a little dull to you,” Judd allowed quietly. He paced beside her with that long, flowing stride of his, which was coming to remind her of a lazily circling bird of prey. “After all, you apparently thrive on causing scenes and creating chaos. I prefer a quieter sort of life.”
“Ferrying planes around the globe is a quiet life?” she scoffed, not looking at him.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone in the cabin of a small aircraft for up to eighteen hours straight? No one to talk to, nothing to keep you going except coffee and sandwiches? It’s quiet, all right! The world feels empty.”
“I didn’t think small private planes carried enough fuel for that long a trip,” Honor muttered, telling herself she really didn’t want to start a conversation with him. Now that she had decided to use the gun she realized she didn’t want to talk to him at all. Talking brought the danger of communication, and communication meant a risk of understanding. She didn’t want to understand or communicate with a man she might have to shoot later.
“The planes are outfitted with special long-distance tanks for the ferrying trips.”
“Oh.”
“It has its compensations, you know,” he went on softly. “My business, I mean.”
“It sounds pretty damn frightening to me! I can’t imagine being alone in a small airplane out over the middle of the Atlantic. If things went wrong…” She shuddered, an image of lonely terror streaking through her mind.
“Yes.” He was silent for a moment. “But there are other times. Times when the sun is coming up and you feel like you’re the only person alive in the world to see it. Or when you’re flying over a deserted stretch of jungle and you realize what the world must have been like when it was younger.”
She risked a quick look at him, her gaze sliding off his hard profile as soon as it touched. “You’re a real loner, aren’t you?”
“Most of the people in my line of work are,” he said dismissingly. “I guess that’s why we get into the business in the first place.”
“It must be strange feeling closer to an airplane than to other human beings!” Honor didn’t attempt to hide the scorn in her voice.
“It must be strange to need the attention of other human beings so badly that you resort to things like fake suicide attempts and running off to deserted Mexican villages.” There was no scorn in his words, only a kind of aloof disapproval.
Honor bit back the angry, useless protest that rose to her lips and lapsed into sullen silence for the rest of the walk into town.
Judd bedded down by the door, blocking the only means of escape from the one-room shack. Honor watched him resentfully as he put out the single light and slid between the thin blankets. He didn’t bother to undress and neither did she. As far as she could tell he went to sleep at once, his head pillowed on a rolled-up towel.
Lying tensely on the cot that had served as her bed for the past month Honor felt each minute that passed as if it were an eternity. For her own protection she had to make certain Judd Raven was asleep before she reached for the gun in the drawer beside her. With that swift, gliding way he moved he could be upon her before she could get her hand into the drawer if he realized her intentions in time.
She waited fifteen minutes and then she waited another ten. During that time Raven never moved. How could he sleep so easily on that hard board floor?
At last, when the moonlight outside had shifted a few degrees on the windowsill, Honor told herself that the time had come. It was now or never. She had to get hold of the gun and then wake her captor, letting him know he was no longer the one in charge.