Primal Calling by Jillian Burns Read Free Book Online Page B

hypothermic.
    Using the light shining from the plane’s window as a beacon, he made his way back and climbed inside the cargo hold. He stopped, holding his position on one knee just behind the pilot’s seat. Mickey, the traitor, was curled up next to the woman. At least he raised his head and whined his happiness at Max’s return. The woman wasn’t quite so enthused.
    She was scowling, huddled inside the tarp, her hands extended to the butane lantern, palms out. “Where were you? I didn’t know if you’d left me to d—”
    â€œTo die? Like I did the others?”
    She had the decency to appear ashamed.
    He crouched closer to the lantern and rummaged for his parka.
    â€œYou’re shivering. Here.” She drew his parka out from inside the tarp and tossed it at him. While he slipped it over his head, he spied her raising his flask to her mouth. She knocked back several swallows.
    â€œGo easy on that,” he said, hoping she’d left some for him. But no such luck. “You drank it all?”
    â€œI was scared. And cold.” She pouted.
    Mumbling his favorite curse words under his breath, he pulled his knife from his boot.
    She scooted away. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
    â€œDammit, lady, if I was going to kill you I’d have done it this morning and spent the day in peace and quiet.” He took the knife and cut open one of the boxes nearest him. Ah, Ireland’s finest. A prime bottle of Jameson. He’d take the price out of his fee. Arnaaluk wouldn’t mind. These were extreme circumstances.
    He twisted off the cap and took a long, sweet pull. The whiskey burned all the way down and warmed his insides. He was beginning to get some feeling back into his fingers and cheeks.
    â€œCan I have some?” She sounded so dejected he took pity on her and held out the bottle.
    As she accepted it from him, their fingers touched. Their gazes met and he knew she was remembering where his hands had been. He was remembering the feel of her palm pressing against his zipper.
    Glancing away, she matched his long pull on the bottle and then some. “Mmm.” She took another long sip.“I don’t usually drink hard liquor, but this stuff is delissous—delishust.” She closed her eyes. “It’s good.”
    â€œThat’s enough for you.” He tried to take it from her but she held it behind her, out of reach.
    â€œNo!” She scowled at him again, then took another sip.
    He snatched the bottle from her grasp.
    â€œHey!”
    â€œI don’t need you puking your guts up in my plane.”
    Her face assumed a haughty expression. “I’ll have you know I’ve flown around the world and I’ve never—” she hiccupped “—puked.”
    â€œIs that so?” Max settled against the side of the plane, rested his arm across his raised knee and took a long swallow from the bottle.
    She hiccupped again and covered her mouth with her hand. “I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I?”
    He shrugged. “You’ll be back in the lower forty-eight this time tomorrow.”
    She frowned and her bottom lip stuck out. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to go back. I can’t.”
    Despite a few slurred words, she seemed to have sobered remarkably. “Why not?”
    â€œI’m quitting.”
    Max blinked. “You’ve got this cushy job in television and you quit just so you can investigate me? You’re not as bright as you look.”
    She raised her chin defiantly. “Anybody with an attractive face could do what I was doing. I want to make a difference. I want to expose atrocities, illuminatecorruption and hold tyrants accountable for their crimes against humanity.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Good luck with that.”
    â€œMock me if you want, but that’s a journalist’s job.” She jabbed her finger at the air in front