Prologue

If Diane Garrick was ever asked to make a list of her biggest fears, flying would be at the very top of that list. Hairy spiders and birthday clowns with those creepy smiles and red noses would be a close second and third.

For the thousandth time that afternoon, she forced out a sigh and clutched the armrest, wondering why the hell she’d picked the window seat. The view of the clouds below was magnificent, granted, but it was magnificent in the same way that the ocean and outer space were—a terrifying grandness that promised every possible danger her unsettled mind could imagine.

And, boy, was her mind great at imagining things. It was awesome when you were an author hoping to secure neat publishing deals. Terrible when you were flying thirty-five thousand feet over Nebraska.

Or was it forty? Forty-five? Just the thought was enough to make her queasy.

The plane hit a patch of turbulence, and her insides went into overdrive, squirming and pounding madly. She shut her eyes, trying to get herself to calm down. She’d already been to the lavatory a couple of times for a tinkle and then to throw up but had given up the idea once the possibility of her spiraling to the earth below with her bottom bared for the entire world to see crept into her mind.

“First time?”

Her eyes flickered open at the sound of the voice, and her gaze swept about, taking in the sea of heads and headrests in the cabin before landing on the man seated right next to her.

“Huh?”

“It’s your first time flying, isn’t it?” he repeated.

His lips curved into a smile that was too wide for the rest of his face. The man looked like he was in his late thirties, with a trimmed beard and a small mustache, but he was already balding. He wore a blue suit that looked a little too big for his body. Between that and his receding hairline, his appearance was that of any businessman. At least, that was how she would describe him if he were a character in one of her novels.

She shook her head. “No, I’ve flown before.”

“You could’ve fooled me. This whole time, you’ve been acting like you can’t wait for us to land. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

Diane couldn’t help the surge of irritation that swept through her. She relaxed her grip on the armrest, momentarily considering clutching his throat instead but held off, deciding that his tie was already strangling him enough.

“Ding, ding, ding,” she muttered, nodding.

He was right, of course. But she hadn’t always hated flying. Not until six years ago, when her husband, Walter, died in that plane crash. He’d kissed her goodbye that morning at the airport, and then she’d turned on the TV only a couple of hours later to see the report of the accident.

She’d completely avoided flying since then. For years, she’d opted to take trains instead. She wouldn’t be on Daystar’s Flight 18 right now if her agent hadn’t held her at gunpoint and forced her onto the plane.

Okay, that was an overstatement. But he’d been pretty particular about her need to get to Chicago on time, and taking a train or a bus would’ve defeated that purpose. He had a point, but Diane had promised to haunt him for the rest of his life if anything happened to her on the flight.

She’d chosen a seat near the back of the cabin because of its proximity to the lavatory, but its location also afforded her a view of most of the cabin. The people in business class certainly looked the part. There were men in suits or wrinkled shirts and a few women who looked like they’d rather be elsewhere. A few children watched cartoons, and beyond them, a man who had been arguing with his seatmate stalked down the aisle in search of a flight attendant.

“Where are you headed?”

It was the man seated next to her again. She’d noticed him watching her intermittently since they’d taken off. No doubt, he’d been hoping to strike up a conversation with her and now he’d done it.

“Chicago,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes. “We’re all headed for Chicago. Got a relative expecting you for Thanksgiving? A boyfriend, maybe?”

At his words, she almost snorted. Was he hitting on her?

The plane shuddered slightly again, and she clutched the armrest, muttering a silent prayer until it stopped. Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she returned her attention to the man seated next to her. It wasn’t her first time being hit on, of course. In the past six years, she’d been hit on by all kinds of guys, even while waiting for the subway. She’d gotten used to it. That is, she’d gotten used to turning those men down. In the six years since Walter’s accident, despite her willingness to move on, she hadn’t met a single man whom she’d consider dating more than a couple of times. Because of that, she felt pretty lonely sometimes.

“I don’t even know you,” she told the man candidly.

He looked slightly taken aback, but the smile returned quickly. “I’m Tom,” he told her. “Tom Baxter. What’s your name?”

Tom Baxter. Businessman. Workaholic. Socially inept. Probably a virgin.

Definitely not protagonist material.

Shelving the thought, she blinked at him, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. “I’m Diane Garrick.”

His eyes widened slowly. “No kidding? The Diane Garrick?”

Diane felt her face flush with embarrassment. Her face wasn’t well-known to the public but her name was. Lots of people knew who Diane Garrick was, especially after her books won several awards.

She’d begun writing romance novels shortly after Walter’s passing. At the time, it had been a way to fill the void he’d left behind, not to mention that the genre fit her lifestyle perfectly. She was forty-five, lived alone with her cats and had coffee stains on the plywood desk she’d managed to cram into the corner of her living room.

However, writing had turned out to be one of her greatest accomplishments. She and Walter had never had children, so when he passed away, she was completely alone.

But that’s how things went, didn’t they? Life wasn’t a journey like those corny motivational speakers claimed. It was more like a walk down the street… if the street was rigged with landmines and ravines. Life came at you pretty fast. But over the years, she’d learned to deal with the pain, to accept it. Opening that laptop and pouring out her ideas, letting her fingers work their magic on the keyboard was the best decision she’d ever made.

Diane Garrick, adventure-seeker, sexy blonde damsel. Dreamer.

She did that sometimes, pretending she was a character in a novel. It was one of the ways she’d dealt with the loneliness. If she could live an imaginary life, then maybe she wouldn’t have to worry so much about things that were real.

“You’ve read my books?” she asked. She’d recently published A Flame of Two Hearts , her fifth standalone novel, and while the reviews had been great so far, she couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious in the presence of one of her readers.

To her surprise and disappointment—and a hint of relief—Tom shook his head. “My wife—I mean, my sister does. She loves your books. All of them.”

She glanced down and caught sight of a gold band just before he moved his hand out of sight.

“I see,” she told him. “Well, I’m currently working on my next book. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“So you’re heading to Chicago for…?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve got a book signing event tonight for A Flame of Two Hearts. I’m guessing you’re heading to Chicago to see your wife and kids for Thanksgiving?”

Tom’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

There . She had him.

Diane couldn’t resist smirking. The guy wasn’t her type anyway. Far from it. If he were a character in one of her novels, he’d be the boring, insecure ex, definitely not a love interest.

She liked her men the way she wrote her male leads—strong, wild, maybe a bit possessive. He had to have confidence along with looks.

Walter had embodied all those traits. It was what had made their marriage so strong along with him being sweet and caring. He’d never passed up an opportunity for an adventure, no matter how insane it sounded.

After he died, she’d modeled all her male leads after him. Horatio in The Siren was a fearsome pirate who fell in love with a woman who’d been lost at sea. Benjamin in A Flame of Two Hearts was a daring firefighter who pulled a doctor out of a burning hospital and vowed to catch the arsonist. Her next book… well, she hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

Looking at Tom now, she felt nothing. He seemed like the type who’d hang around bars after work and try to pick up some bored woman and take her to a hotel down the street.

She looked out the window again, and her insides quivered just as another shudder filled the plane.

It’s just more turbulence, she reminded herself, placing a hand over her racing heart. They should be touching down in Chicago in the next hour or so.

Diane Garrick gazed out the plane window at the expanse of sky that held her in its grip, threatening to drop her to her death. Panic gripped her heart like an icy hand, tightening with every second that ticked by.

She smiled weakly as her heart rate began to slow.

Not a bad idea , she thought and sighed.

Once the plane touched down, she’d get a hotel room and prepare for her book signing. And once that was over, she’d try to get back in time for Thanksgiving. At least, that was what she’d told her agent. All she really wanted was to get back home so she could take her cats back from the sitter.

If I wasn’t single, I wouldn’t need a sitter , she thought.

She brushed that thought away although she couldn’t pretend it didn’t have some truth to it. She needed some romance in her life again. Something real , not what men like Tom had to offer. If she could pretend she was a character in one of her novels, why couldn’t she find someone to play the male lead? It was not as if she hadn’t tried. It was that the prospects were definitely not what she wanted. They were boring, to say the least. And boredom was the last thing Diane needed.

“You know,” Tom said just then, “maybe after we touch down, we can—”

He never completed his statement because at that moment, the plane shuddered violently and she immediately tightened her grip on the armrest, her heart pumping like a piston in overdrive.

“What the hell just happened?” she shrieked in spite of herself.

She wasn’t the only one was panicking. All through the cabin, passengers were screaming. Horror swept through the rows of people like a sharpened blade, and Diane found herself struggling to breathe as the chaos consumed her.

This was it , she thought. Her worst fears were coming to pass.

When the lights in the cabin flickered, she knew they were done for. There was a malfunction with the plane and she doubted they correct it. Out of the corner of her eye, she detected a burst of flame, and something whizzed past her window.

“We’ve lost our wings!” someone cried out.

The plane shuddered again, and Diane lost her grip on the armrest. A panicked scream erupted from her lips as she grabbed the first thing she could. A clammy hand gripped hers tightly, almost painfully. It was Tom’s. The man’s face was ashen, his eyes dilating with the same terror that had taken hold of her.

“We’re going to die,” he moaned. “We’re all going to die.”

They were. When Diane had boarded the flight, the possibility of death had occurred to her, nagging her from the depths of her memories. Walter hadn’t known he would die on a plane all those years ago, and now the same thing was happening to her. What had been a mere possibility before was now staring her right in the face.

It was the face of death that loomed over her, and though Diane longed to tear her gaze away, she remained transfixed, regarding her impending doom with a mixture of awe and abject horror. She was going to die, and it would not be the peaceful, timely death that one might envision. Unless, by some miracle—

A sudden movement jerked her out of her story. Diane realized, to her dismay, that the plane had begun to dip, nosediving toward the ground. She glanced outside the window. They’d descended below the clouds, plummeting toward what must be Nebraska. Flight 18 would end up a fiery pile of metal on a highway, and her final memory would be the sight of billboards and traffic lights.

But when she managed to catch a glimpse outside, she saw no sign of civilization. She saw nothing but a looming mass of white and grey, which she soon realized was a mountain, a mountain covered in snow.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. They were going to crash into a mountain.

As if to confirm her fears, there was a deafening explosion behind her, and the plane gave a mighty shudder. The next thing Diane knew, there was a grating sound, and the hull of the plane was suddenly gone, leaving the back of the cabin completely exposed. A scream escaped her lips as she was suddenly sucked out of her seat.

For the next few seconds, she tumbled through the air, the mountain spiraling in and out of her vision, And then the most terrifying thing that could happen to a person terrified of heights happened: She fell.