Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

Jonah yanked Shay out of Lyle's arms. He shoved her toward the closest chair, pushed her down, and grabbed her seatbelt. Clicking it in place, his fingers lingered on her abdomen. He leaned in close, and she wished she could vomit again.

She ducked her head, but he grabbed her chin and forced her face up toward his. So she pushed out a breath that she hoped smelled as horrid as her mouth tasted.

His leering expression changed to disgust. "You stink," he snarled. "Lyle, give me a water bottle and some gum or a breath mint or something."

The man hurried to the rear of the plane then back to them, handing over a water bottle and a box of breath mints.

Jonah opened the water bottle and poured some in her mouth. She swished it around and spit it in his face.

"Hey!" Jonah raised his hand to smack her. She instinctively wanted to recoil—she'd never had a man hit her before—but she glowered at him instead. If she was going to die, she would die as an American Olympian, proud and brave, not cowering to scum like this.

His eyes narrowed. Instead of hitting her, he grabbed her jaw and cheeks and squeezed so hard her mouth involuntarily popped open. He dumped a dozen strong mints in her mouth. She gagged and prayed she wouldn't choke. She batted at his hands. Lyle yanked her wrists down to her sides. Jonah sneered at her and forced her mouth to open and close, chewing up the mints.

Her breath no longer stunk. Her throat was now on fire, the minty taste so powerful it might keep him away. For a minute.

"Buckle up, please," Paul's voice said over the plane's speakers.

It was Paul's voice. It was Paul. How could he not help her?

Please, Father above. I need Your help. I need Paul's help. Please.

The other men obeyed, but Jonah didn't. He stayed leaning over her, smiling. His teeth were white, a stark contrast to his tattooed face. His breath smelled sweet even though his body odor was rank.

The plane's engine revved and Shay knew her life was over. They'd taxi out of here, lift into the air, and then the vile Jonah would ‘have his fun' as Paul had said. She still couldn't wrap her mind around Paul Braven saying that or dismissing her. Tears stung her eyes, disappointment in Paul not being a hero, pain of Jonah's harsh treatment, and fear of what was coming.

Darian had quietly intoned to her and her parents for years that Paul was no hero and not worthy of their town's emulation. She'd listened and had been sympathetic to her brother's heartbreak, but inside she'd known Darian was embittered because his fiancée Carrie had flung herself at Paul in a very public display before taking off on a mountain bike, crashing, and dying. She felt awful for Darian and revered her brother, but she had always secretly believed he was wrong this one time and Paul was perfect.

Turns out she was the one who was wrong. Their entire town had been duped by the handsome Lieutenant Paul Braven.

What an awful realization to have before she was raped and murdered.

Shay blinked and glared at Jonah. He was bigger than any of the other men, but she would fight and scratch and kick and bite and vomit and anything else she could think of. If she could, she'd force them to knock her out or kill her.

How had her life plummeted to this horrific moment?

The cockpit door flew open and banged loudly against the wall. Paul stood framed in it, a pistol in hand. His dark eyes filled with determination and confidence. He fired in quick succession.

Lyle banged back against a seat, blood streaming from his forehead. Handsome Jaden sprawled to the side, blood streaming from his throat. Ross stood and yanked out his own pistol. Paul shot him square in the chest. He clutched at his chest and sank into a seat. Paul fired again and he didn't move, his gun clattering to the floor.

Jonah sprawled over top of her and yelled, "You shoot me, she could die."

Paul did some tough guy from a movie type of action hero rizz where he separated the two pieces of the gun and dropped them in different directions.

"I won't shoot you," he said, calm and heroic and perfect.

Paul was good and true, and he was saving her! Shay's heart soared with joy, though the foul and massive Jonah pressed on top of her was far from encouraging. Why had Paul dropped his gun?

Jonah arched back to look at Paul better, maybe surprised by the move as well.

"I need someone for the police to question," Paul said with a smirk.

He dove across the space and Superman-punched Jonah in the face. He ripped the man off her and shoved him back into another set of seats.

Jonah fought back, his fists a whirl as he hit Paul.

She winced and cried out as Paul was driven back. "No!"

Paul glanced at her and gave her a reassuring and beautiful smile. His white teeth, the skin crinkling at the edges of his eyes and mouth and slight dimples appearing in his cheeks made her heart race out of control for a completely different reason than it had all night.

Jonah roared and knocked Paul back with several vicious hits.

Shay tried to jump up and help somehow. Her seatbelt held her fast. She fumbled to release it, but her hands were trembling too violently.

"Please help Paul win," she begged heaven above.

Paul gave her a smirk and said, "Come on, Shay. Have a little faith. I was just making him feel like he had a chance."

Shay's eyes widened, awe and adoration filled her.

Jonah cursed and swung even more viciously. Paul dodged Jonah's assault and moved in closer, which terrified Shay. Shouldn't they be running from this brute? Paul was strong, but he was tall and lean. Jonah was thick and would likely fight dirty.

Paul drove the monster back into a chair with precise jabs. The muscles in Paul's back were outlined by the shirt and the striations in his arms were a work of art as he pummeled the now whining Jonah. He bloodied Jonah's nose and split his lip, and Shay couldn't help but grin.

"Yay!" Shay cheered. "You're fire!"

She didn't love violence, but her hometown hero dismantling the man who would've murdered her was something to cheer for.

Paul grinned and she knew all was right in the world.

Then a flash of metal appeared in Jonah's hand.

"Paul!" she shrieked.

Jonah would impale him, and Paul would die trying to defend her.

Paul's hand darted out and grabbed Jonah's wrist. Jonah shrieked and she could swear she heard bones break. Jonah released the knife, grabbing his injured wrist and cursing.

"I'm done with you," Paul said, darting behind Jonah and grasping his neck. The man flailed and then slumped in the chair, unmoving and eyes closed.

Paul released him and straightened. His gaze swung to Shay. "One moment," he said with a warm smile. The words were a promise. In one moment, Paul would come for her and she would hug him tight.

He darted back into the cockpit and returned moments later with a backpack. Swooping his gun off the ground, he put the pieces together and the gun in a holster on his hip. He tugged open the backpack and pulled out some zip-ties, then shoved the unconscious Jonah onto his face on the floor and zip-tied his legs and his hands and then zip-tied each to the metal underside of the chairs.

Shay was stunned and awed by him. Gratitude filled her. It was a marvel how quick she'd gone from imminent death to inspiring rescue.

Paul glanced at the other men as if confirming they were dead. Shay's gut churned again. Paul had killed three men to save her life. She would be forever grateful, but the loss of more life sickened her. She prayed it wouldn't be disturbing to Paul.

The oxygen rushed out of her lungs as he turned to her. He was the epitome of every girlish dream she'd ever had. He was disheveled from the fight with Jonah, and it only made him more appealing. He'd fought and won, rescued her from death and worse. He'd come for her.

She let out a whimper and sprung up to hug him fiercely. Well, she tried. Her seat belt caught her and she got nowhere.

Paul's brown eyes filled with concern. He hurried to her and bent down, easily unclasping the seat belt. The soft brush of his fingers against her abdomen and the appealing warmth that rose from his fingers were such a contrast to the other men's touches that more tears came to her eyes.

"Shay." His voice was gentle. "You're okay now. It's over. I'm here."

"You saved me!" she cried out.

She'd gone from the horror of certain assault and death to safety. Because of him. Paul was here for her. He'd proven himself even more of a hero than their hometown exalted him as. She had no choice but to show him exactly how grateful she was and how incredible he was.

She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Paul startled and she feared she'd been too impetuous.

Then he returned the kiss. He pressed her back into the seat and took command of her lips with warm, persuasive, delicious movements that changed her entire vision of this night. This kiss could change the trajectory of her future.

She was not only safe, warm, and cherished, but she was full of sparks, light, and had found the love of her life. He tasted clean and fresh. He smelled like sandalwood and musk, the most perfect manly smell on earth.

Paul broke away from the kiss, straightened, and helped her to her feet. She was stunned and disoriented but still safe and protected.

"We've got to go," he said, his voice urgent. He slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"You'll never escape," Jonah snarled, peering up at them from the floor.

Shay startled. She hadn't realized he'd woken up.

"Watch us," Paul shot back. He bent down to Jonah, grabbed the back of his neck again, and Jonah slumped back to the floor. Paul slid the phone out of Jonah's pocket, powered it off, and placed it in his backpack. Then he gave her a confident smile and took her hand, leading her toward the plane's exit. "He'll be out longer the second time and he can thank me for the headache."

They hurried through a side door and into the warm night air. She winced as they left the concrete and her feet hit the gritty sand and pebbles beyond.

Paul hardly paused as he swooped her off the ground and against his chest. Shay's stomach dropped, but this time it was a happy pitch. When the man earlier had picked her up, it had been horrifying. Paul lifting her made her feel safe, protected, and full of desire for him. She was even grateful at this moment that monster had forced her to chew the breath mints. She arched up to kiss Paul again. Her lips brushed his jawline as he turned his head to survey their surroundings.

He rushed into the night, and she had to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on tight. Disappointment stung from the missed kiss, but she understood they needed distance from Jonah and whatever other criminals might be coming.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I've got a plane at a different airfield," he explained. He moved quickly with her in his arms, as if she was no burden at all. She'd never felt such an incredible sensation. She was floating in Paul's strong, sure, and perfect embrace.

Half a minute later, he stopped. She peered through the darkness to see a sleek-looking black motorcycle. It fit her hero perfectly.

"The getaway vehicle," he said with a gallant wink.

He slid her feet to the ground and released her, pulling out his phone. She felt bereft without his touch and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. It wasn't cold outside, but her suit was damp and she was feeling a combination of the letdown of Paul not touching her and shock as her mind spun through everything that had transpired tonight. Now that the action was done, she was processing, and the replay was almost as horrifying as the first take.

Paul pushed a button on his phone, looking at her in concern. He touched her arm. "It'll be okay."

She nodded, hugging herself and shaking.

"Aiden," Paul said into the phone. "The plan imploded. My cover's blown. I'm headed back to the Gulfstream. I have an innocent in tow who needs protective custody. Three perps dead, one tied up in their plane. Left him alive for questioning." He paused then. "Thanks. Hopefully they can get some info from the live one. I've got his phone. I'll leave it in the hangar." A pause. "Yes. I'll check in soon."

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned to her. "Shay." His voice was gentle, and he wrapped his warm palms around both of her hands. "You've been so brave. Can you hold it together a little longer? I'll get you somewhere safe."

"Thank you." Her voice trembled and she bit her lip. She wanted to cling to him, to kiss him again. When she'd been kissing him, she hadn't thought about any of the revulsion and shock of this night. Being kidnapped, knowing she'd die soon, those disgusting men touching her and threatening her, Meacham and Turner probably dead…

Paul released her hands, grasped the bottom of his shirt, and slid it up and over his head. Shay gaped at his chest. Before this nightmare, she had spent most of her days in the swimming pool with ultra-fit men. She'd never seen a chest to compare with this one—broad, shredded or swole as her teenage friends would say, tanned, perfect. There were a myriad of reasons every girl from home, including her, crushed on Paul Braven, and she was hyper-focused on one of those beautiful reasons right now.

"Apologies for stripping, but you were shivering." He gave her a confident smile that made her knees weak, held up his shirt, and slid it over her head.

Shay shrugged into the shirt sleeves and felt the soft cotton cover her down to her elbows and halfway to her knees. She was tall for a woman, but Paul had to be at least six-four.

The half-way unbuttoned neckline drooped to the side. She tried to straighten it and saw Paul's eyes dip to her collarbone then quickly away. She was grateful to be covered, even if those awful men weren't around to ogle her. Paul's glance was very different—admiring and respectful. His gaze made her warm and filled her with joyful anticipation.

Would they spend more time together? Kiss again? That kiss would not leave her mind. Had it affected him at all?

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Of course. Part of the rescue package." He winked.

She flushed with heat at his wink. Before she could ask if she were only a rescue detail or if she was special and another kiss was part of the rescue package, he pulled the backpack off his shoulder. "Can you wear this for me so you can …" He swallowed and said more quietly, "get close to me on the bike."

"Of course." He wanted to be close on the bike? Cuddled close to her heroic rescuer sounded like the cure for any lingering fear or pain those men had caused. This night was such a contrast of emotion she could hardly keep up. From horror and revulsion around her kidnappers and would-be murderers to the warmth and safety that Paul offered her.

"For your safety," he clarified, but something in his brown eyes said he wouldn't mind her close for reasons that had nothing to do with her safety. He swung the backpack onto her back and secured the clasp at her sternum. The shirt shifted and draped below her collarbone again. His fingers brushed her skin and lingered.

Shay stared at him. A yearning she'd never experienced walloped her. The men she'd dated in college and since had been great guys—fun, kind, interesting. None of them held a candle to Paul Braven.

She swayed on her feet. Paul moved his hand to her elbow, steadied her, then gave her a closed-off smile as if he were trying to distance himself and not become emotionally involved. She wanted to cry out a protest, but she'd cried out far too much tonight and wouldn't force this stud of a man to be interested in her.

He swung onto the bike and gestured behind him. "Let's get out of here."

She lifted her right leg over the back wheel. There was a fender over the wheel but no back rest. In fact, there was hardly any space for her. No wonder he wanted her wearing the backpack to keep her safe from slipping off the back.

"This lovely rocket is not designed for two," Paul said as if guessing her thoughts.

Rocket? This thing looked like a rocket. It was lovely. She should be terrified to cling to Paul on the back of this speedy-looking machine, but after the terror of earlier tonight, a fast ride on a motorcycle held no fear for her.

"You'll have to hold on tight to me and be careful not to get your leg close to the muffler."

Shay slid into the small space on the seat behind him as he pulled himself forward. She pressed tight against his back. Snaking her arms around his midsection, her hands wrapped around the muscles of his abdomen.

" Fire ," she murmured.

Paul chuckled, but it was unsteady. His body trembled slightly against hers, reassuring her she wasn't alone in the unexpected emotions he created in her.

He inserted and turned the key on the bike. It roared to life. He clicked it into gear with his left foot, held onto the wide handles, and they eased along the gravel road. The small airport appeared deserted. They left it behind quickly and raced along a quiet highway. Paul smoothly shifted through the gears and increased their speed.

Shay laid her cheek against his broad back and clung to Paul. The absence of fear was noticeable. They soared along the highway as if they were floating. It was as bussin' as the sensation of swimming when she was in the zone in an Olympic-sized pool.

If someone would've told her she'd be kidnapped and almost killed tonight, she may have believed them because of the danger she was in testifying against Big T next week. But that Paul Braven would rescue her and she'd be cuddled against him and racing away on a motorcycle almost as beautiful as he was? She would've scoffed.

Everything about tonight seemed surreal. But Paul was right here. He had rescued her and made her feel safe. He felt so good to hold onto the shock and horror of earlier was pushed aside.