Deadly Little Lies by Jeanne Adams Read Free Book Online Page B

sakes, he’d have to get his hands in front of him. He couldn’t hold her; nor could they stay warm enough with his hands bound back.
    â€œHere now, sweetheart—” He used the endearment as much to soothe his own fears as hers. “Sit up for a moment and let me get my hands in front of me. Just a minute, okay?”
    She nodded and he felt the movement on his body. He hated the deepening gloom in the plane’s interior, the yawning, inky black maw of the tail section. Her delusions and fear made it worse. The residual drugs in his system made it harder to fight back the memories, the sensory details of rats and roaches. He shuddered again as he began the agonizing task of getting his hands in front of him.
    Sweat ran a damp trail down his spine as he struggled with the twists and turns necessary to pull his bound hands under his hips, and from there, under his knees. It took him forever to get his feet through the circle of his arms. Red fury threatened at several points, his temper unbound by the drug and the situation. The pain in his shoulders and elbows raced fire over all his nerves, even as cold fear rose within him because he couldn’t feel his hands.
    More than anything, he was castigating himself at the sheer hubris he’d displayed. To have his decision to relax security measures cost him his life was bad enough, but to have it potentially cost Carrie her life was almost more than he could bear.
    â€œDav? Are you okay?” Carrie asked, her voice stronger.
    â€œYamot ti Panayia mou!” The vulgar curse burst forth from him as he lost his patience with being helpless, with trying to get his hands from underneath him while balancing against the plane’s movements. The only plus was that stress and the steady physical activity brought him momentary warmth in the cold of the cargo area. His hands stung in pain with the banging around generated by his struggles. At least he was feeling the pain; it would be far worse, he knew, if his hands had remained numb.
    When he finally got them in front of him, he almost wished he hadn’t. Swollen and bluish, his hands were secured together with three heavy-duty plastic zip ties. One on each wrist was linked by the third, not only immobilizing him, but deliberately exacerbating the potential for pain.
    After one look, he ignored the ties. He couldn’t change the situation right now and Gates had told him to consistently focus on the things he could change. “Here, Carrie,” he said when he got his pain under momentary control. “Sit closer. We’ll keep each other warm.”
    She moved immediately under the arch of the arm he painfully lifted, and burrowed into his chest. “Thank you.” After a moment, she spoke again. “I’m scared, Dav,” she murmured.
    â€œI know. I am too,” he admitted, hoping it would help her to know it. “All we can do is wait, and look for opportunities to escape or make a deal.” Pain raced over him with every bump of the plane. He blocked it by letting his face caress her glorious hair.
    That was in the present moment; that was beautiful. Her skin was soft and sweet on the rasp of his stubble-scratchy face. He could still smell her perfume and he focused on that, ignoring all other smells, all other thoughts. He knew it was a momentary respite, but that separation from fear, that brief, sweet lull let his mind clear.
    â€œWe could die here,” she muttered, and he heard the fear again. “We could die.”
    â€œNo.” He made it a statement. He would not allow that possibility. She was his future. He would not allow it to be otherwise. He would use the stubborn will that helped him survive his father and countless business rivals and they would survive. “We’ll make it out of this. My people, they’ll know to get Gates. He has all manner of ways to figure out what’s happened. He’ll find us. He and Ana are the