Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [81]
No, he just wanted her calm and docile for the flight across the Pacific. And maybe he could let himself sleep, as well.
She was trying to stay calm, but even with the whiskey in her belly he could see that her fear of flying was kicking in.
It made no sense—she’d faced death countless times in the last few days, and flying in a well-maintained jet in calm weather should have been the least of her worries.
But he’d already figured out that Summer Hawthorne wasn’t the most logical creature. She’d watched her world shatter around her, he’d invaded her soul and her body, and he’d seen the look in her eyes as he’d walked away from her.
Crazy woman.
She was getting confused as to who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. No wonder. Sometimes he wasn’t sure there was any difference at all. He might be keeping her alive, but apart from that he was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. And the only thing he could do was move straight ahead with the mission with single-minded purpose, bringing it to a safe conclusion. He’d do his best to make sure she survived along the way—he’d reluctantly accepted that much.
He strapped in beside her, trying to ignore her, trying to shut her out of his mind. He glanced over at her as they began taxiing down the runway, and found her eyes shut, her face pale, her hands were clenched tightly in her lap as she endured her fear. She was good at that. No matter what he or life threw at her, she endured.
Taka reached over and put his hand on hers as the plane began to climb. She didn’t look his way, didn’t open her eyes, but her hand turned beneath his and caught his fingers, entwining them with hers. Until they were high in the sky over the Pacific and she fell asleep and her hand loosened in his.
And still he held it. Until he, too, fell asleep, for the first time in seventy-two hours.
The darkness was like a velvet shroud, pressing down around her. Summer woke with a start, blinking to try and orient herself. She felt strange, disconnected, floating, and then she realized to her horror that she literally was floating. She was trapped in a jet plane somewhere over the Pacific Ocean.
She couldn’t breathe. A demon was sitting on her chest, pressing the air out of her lungs, and there were shadows all around. She could barely make out shapes in the dim light. Even the perky flight attendants seemed to have disappeared, and all around her people were sleeping like corpses, including Taka. And she still couldn’t breathe.
Summer unfastened her seat belt, trying to be silent, but her hands were shaking so hard she rattled the buckle anyway. Taka stirred beside her, stretched out in his reclining chair, but then slept on as she scrambled from her own skyborne prison.
There was a bathroom directly behind their seats, unoccupied, and she fled toward it, trying to catch her breath. She shoved the door closed and held on to the sink, staring at the crazy woman in the mirror, the one who couldn’t breathe.
No, she had to be breathing—she could hear the sound of her tight, rapid gasps as she struggled. She splashed water on her face from the tiny sink, but it changed nothing. She could feel the walls closing in, and knew she was going to either pass out or start screaming, and didn’t know what was worse. Or whether she’d have any say in the matter.
No screaming. Screaming would bring Taka, and would endanger both of them. She shoved her fist in her mouth, trying to silence her struggles for air, but that only made things worse. She could hear the tiny whimpers that were beginning to escape from her mouth.
Usually she could control her panic attacks. She’d spent a great deal of time and money working on