Without thinking of the consequences, she went into the bedroom and pulled one of her suitcases from the rack in the closet and began throwing things into it. When she had taken only what she needed, she left her room and made her way to the resort’s lobby. It had started raining hard again.
“I need to leave here tonight. What flights do you have coming into your airport?”
The sleepy night clerk scratched his head. “I don’t know, let’s see. The weather and all…” He trailed off meaningfully. “In the morning, you can get on the plane to San Juan. It leaves at seven. But with the weather—”
“Can someone take me to the airport tonight? I’ll wait there.”
“I guess he can, but, madam, why don’t you—”
“Where is the limousine driver?” she asked imperiously.
“He was in the bar the last time—”
“Thank you. I’m with Mr. Gudjonsen’s party. If he needs to get into my room before I return, you may give him a key.”
She found the reluctant driver, though he grumbled about having to leave his drink and drive someone to the airstrip when there wasn’t even a plane there.
She sat in the deserted building all night. In the morning, she waited patiently for the scheduled flight and was thankful when it was only forty-five minutes late. The rain was still torrential.
The flight to San Juan was extremely uncomfortable, and Kathleen feared that at any moment the aircraft would be plunged into the ocean. Puerto Rico wasn’t her final destination, however, for it was too commercial. She wanted seclusion. She asked for information at a booth in the airport.
“You may want to consider Chub Cay. It’s a privately owned island,” the lady behind the counter informed her. “The resort area is comparatively small. The island is still being developed, but it is lovely and secluded, as you expressed a wish for.”
“Yes,” said Kathleen. “How do I get there?”
“They’re only flying one plane today and it leaves in…” she checked a schedule, “twenty minutes.”
Kathleen raced to the ticket counter of the island-hopping airline and purchased a ticket. Her heart sank when she saw the airplane. It was about half the size of the one she had just deboarded. Every time she saw a plane now, she remembered watching Erik’s jet taxiing down the runway at Fort Smith and the disastrous crash. She had never been comfortable about flying since. Especially in the rain.
What would have happened had that airplane not been involved in an accident? Would Erik have come back that evening? Perhaps over dinner they would have talked about his brother and Sally.
Remorse lay heavy on her heart as she boarded the aircraft. Blessedly, the flight was brief and she was soon checked into the island resort. For absolute privacy, she had chosen to stay in a cabin away from the main lodge.
Kathleen was driven by a bellman in a golf cart to her door and helped inside the cozy room that overlooked the ocean, then she collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. The sleep that she had denied herself the night before finally made its claim.
Cacophonous thunder awakened her in the early evening. She walked to the window and pulled the drapes open. The rain was a heavy curtain through which she could barely see. Feeling rested and safe, she went into the tiny bathroom and took a reviving shower. As she brushed through her hair, she thought about calling home, but decided against it. She would call in the morning. Tonight she wanted to be by herself.
She pulled on the terry-cloth jump suit again. The downy yellow color complemented her renewed tan. She curled into the bed and situated the pillow behind her, picking up a paperback book she had quickly purchased at a newsstand in the airport in San Juan.
The storm intensified. The thunder was closer and the crackling of lightning popped in an alarming fashion. She went to the window and reached to pull the draw cord of the drape. Her hand froze as she saw someone running pell-mell through the drenching rain. He staggered against the force of the wind, but still he barreled on.
Her heart lurched to her throat when she realized that the apparition was coming straight for her door. Kathleen barely had time to whirl around in terror before her door crashed open and Erik burst through it.
His jeans and shirt were sodden, and his hair was plastered to his head. He gasped in great, heaving breaths, making his chest rise and fall like a bellows. Raindrops dripped from his earlobes and nose and eyebrows. His hands were balled into fists at his thighs. He glared at Kathleen, who cowered against the windowsill, less afraid of the elements now than of him.
He was a true son of Thor, spawned from the god of thunder during a storm. His eyes were as cold as any North wind. His face was terrible. It was the dark face of vengeance, intent on having revenge on some poor misguided soul who had had the audacity to offend the gods.
“I ought to beat the hell out of you,” he growled.
As an ominous refrain, the door slammed behind him.
Chapter Nineteen
Her initial fear was replaced by anger, generated by jealousy and frustration. Moving away from the false security of the window, she faced him defiantly, her body straining with suppressed fury. “Get out of here and leave me alone.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Kirchoff. Not after I’ve risked my life to get here. I’m not about to leave until I’ve done what I came to do.”
Her face paled in spite of her claim to despise him. “You flew out here during this?” She indicated the storm outside. “How?”