Finding Kate Huntley by Theresa Ragan Read Free Book Online

large section of chain-link fence clung to the front end of their car as they skidded across gravel. Kate glanced over her shoulder. “Looks like they’ve been detained.”
    In the rearview mirror, Jack saw that a lengthy metal pole had propelled backwards and shot straight through the other cab. He pulled up close to the plane and hit the brakes. The wheels squealed against asphalt, filling the air with the smell of burnt rubber.
    He looked at Kate. His heart pumped with adrenaline. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. How about you?”
    “I’m good. Let’s go.” Snatching his backpack, he climbed out. The pilot stood at the top of the landing, waving them inside. Jack ushered Kate up the narrow stairs in front of him. Close behind, the sound of bullets rang out.
    Two men ran across the tarmac toward them.
    Jack helped the pilot with the door before the pilot rushed toward the cockpit. Jack leaned over Kate to help her with her seatbelt.
    “I’ve got it,” she said.
    Once again, he raised his hands in surrender.

    The plane headed full speed down the runway. The wheels lifted and in minutes they were high above the sounds of sirens speeding along the runway. Kate leaned back and closed her eyes, waiting for a bullet to hit the engine and send them into a fiery descent. By the time she got the nerve to peek out the small oval window all she saw was the rippling blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.
    “That was close,” Jack said. “We’re safe now.”
    Kate didn’t share his feelings of relief. She felt exposed. For the first time in years she was in unfamiliar territory. She didn’t like it one bit.
    Jack must have sensed her vulnerability because he reached over and took her hand. She wasn’t used to people touching her. Instead of pushing him away though, she looked at the hand covering hers. She couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her with such gentleness. His hands were strong, capable, his nails neatly clipped. Her hands looked weathered in comparison, her nails ragged and worn down to the quick. Her fingers looked thin and fragile. Fragile was the last thing she wanted to be. She couldn’t afford to be fragile. Not if she wanted to stay alive. She pulled her hand away.
    Despite her pulling back, Jack smiled at her as he leaned his head back against the cushioned headrest. “A long hot shower, a big juicy steak, and a nice glass of wine, preferably 1997 Stags Leap Cabernet Sauvignon, will be waiting for us when we land.”
    Kate tried to summon a bit of Jack’s optimism, but it was no use. “I don’t remember the feel of hot water drizzling over my head or the taste of well-cooked meat.” Nor had she ever had the pleasure of sampling even a small taste of fine wine. For the last ten years she’d survived mainly on conch, mangos, and grayish unfiltered water.
    He was watching her. She didn’t like the pity she saw in his eyes. The thought of returning to the States terrified her, which in turn made her incredibly angry. Fear no longer had a place in her life. She ate fear for dinner. She needed to stay focused. Focus is what helped keep her alive all these years. That same single-mindedness would see her to the end of her journey, to that moment when she would attain the one thing for which she lived. Revenge. Anyone associated with her father’s death would pay.

    Her fingers curled into fists. She was far from the fragile little girl she’d been so many years ago. She shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. The thought of settling scores made it easier to breathe. For the past ten years not a day went by that she didn’t relive the last horrifying moments with her father. For ten years she’d dreamed of serpent tattoos and grayish black eyes. Yes, revenge would be sweet - far more satisfying than any fine wine Jack could ever offer her.

Chapter 4

    Michael Ray Harrison looked about the Biltmore Hotel ballroom with distaste. According to the media, tonight’s