Quadruple Duty: All or Nothing

Something else exploded, and suddenly my mouth was filled with dirt. The taste was like sour chalk and coffee grinds, but at least it distracted me from the pain.

“Nanise!”

I was on the ground, sprawled against the rocks and debris, spitting so I could breathe again. The right side of my face was on fire. The eye on that side was gummed shut with blood… or worse.

“NANISE!”

I heard scratching, scrambling. Some kind of shouting very close by, in a language I could only hope was English.

Then the darkness descended. It spiraled inward from the edges like the aperture of a camera, or the intro to a James Bond movie…

… and my whole world went black.

Thirty-One

SAMMARA

It was a long flight to Vanua Levu, giving us plenty of time to plan, time to sleep. The second-largest island of Fiji was breathtakingly beautiful, especially from the air. All lush greens and turquoise blues and white sand beaches as far as the eyes could see.

Of course it reminded me sharply of Bora Bora. Which in turn reminded me of Kyle, and Ryan, and Jason…

Nine months. That’s all it’s been.

It seemed like an eternity ago now. Ages since we’d all been together in paradise, celebrating our happy union. Absently I spun my engagement rings around my finger, while staring out the window of the plane. We were on final approach now. One step closer to fulfilling my very unorthodox plan…

I couldn’t believe Dakota had gone for it, but it made too much sense not to try. Besides, the alternative was an exercise in futility. There was a chance he might’ve gotten the others back by himself, through cleverness or diplomacy or sheer brute force. But I wasn’t willing to let him try. At least not until we’d exhausted all other options.

We landed smoothly, and transitioned to a private FBO on the outskirts of the airport. Nadi was one of the smaller International Airports, but seemed no less busy than some of the others I’d seen.

“You sure you can fly this thing?” the dark-skinned man talking to Dakota said. He glanced at me sideways before going back to the conversation. I turned away and left them to their negotiations.

A half hour later we were in the air, Dakota ascending smoothly through a series of wispy cloud layers. I’d known my fiancé held a pilot’s license… but I also knew he wasn’t exactly seaplane-rated. He’d rented the aircraft for quadruple the normal amount, just to keep the owner satisfied… and quiet.

“We’ll be fine,” he assured me over the headset. I was strapped securely into the co-pilot’s seat, still gripping my seat cushion tightly with both hands. “How hard could it be?”

Once above the cloud cover, things smoothed out. Dakota set course and flipped a switch. Then he unbuckled, got up, and crawled awkwardly into one of the rear seats.

“What are you doing?” I yelped. “Dakota, I—”

“Autopilot,” he said matter-of-factly. “Don’t sweat it.”

Autopilot! I had no idea aircraft this small even had autopilot! Yet our wings remained straight and level throughout. I watched the rudder pedals move on their own, the control wheel twisting slightly left and right as whatever mechanism was flying the plane made small, tiny adjustments to account for wind fluctuations.

In the meantime, Dakota had a sleek metal case in his lap. I had no clue where he’d gotten it. He was busy plucking pieces from within a series of egg-crate nests, inspecting each piece before setting it back into its proper place.

“You know,” he called from the back seat, “the guys would kick my ass if they knew what I was about to let you do.”

On either side of me, the twin engines droned on. They changed in pitch and volume as a gust of wind drove the nose up slightly.

“If this doesn’t work,” I countered, “there won’t be anyone left to kick your ass.”

Somewhere over my shoulder he made a face. I couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad one.

“Look, this is our best bet,” I said. “Either he’ll help us or he won’t, but it’s not gonna hurt to try.”

For once Dakota didn’t answer. We both knew that last part was debatable.

We flew on for a while, and eventually he climbed back into the pilot’s seat. I couldn’t help but notice he looked hotter than hell, wearing a sky-blue headset and a pair of mirrored aviator glasses. One big hand rested sexily on the seaplane’s throttle. I placed mine over his, interlacing our fingers.