Chapter 25
649 Words
Chapter 25
Daniel didn’t hear any change to the helicopter’s rotors, but Captain Smith signaled they were nearing their destination.
He wanted to tell Beale and Henderson to just keep flying. To never stop. Alice asleep inside the curl of his arm, her hair soft, brushing his cheek.
The Canadian Gulf Islands out the window looked wilder than the American San Juans. The forests had fewer breaks for houses. Roads were narrow lanes rather than stretches of well-paved-and-striped two-ways. Fifty miles northwest of the airport and they’d also illegally crossed an international border.
He shook Alice gently awake. There was no way over the rotor noise, but he’d swear he could hear a hum of contentment from Alice as she turned her face into his shoulder.
Daniel hesitated because Captain Smith sat there facing them from two feet away.
Screw it.
He brushed Alice’s chin upward with a soft caress and then kissed her awake.
Half awake, she leaned in; soft, warm, slow, luscious.
Daniel’s seatbelt was abruptly too tight across his lap in exactly the wrong place.
When fully awake, there was no sudden hesitancy. As if she knew even in her sleep exactly who she was kissing. Sitting here, in a roaring helicopter, might well be the sexiest moment of his life. Not for any of his body’s happy imaginings about s*x, but for the familiar sensuality in Alice Thompson’s kiss.
The helicopter banked and Daniel glanced up to see a daunting cliff wall very close outside the window.
“Holy wow!” Alice’s observation was just audible.
Thirty or forty feet high, the cliffs soared straight out of the pounding waves. The water must be deep because no pile of boulders huddled around the base. Anything that broke free here was headed for deep water. A steady turn lasted them through a full 360-degree circuit around the island. All cliff.
Then the Majors flew the helicopter upward on a second circuit around the perimeter. Tall stands of dark, dark evergreen trees capped the rugged island that couldn’t be much over a quarter-mile across. As they returned to the south side, an opening appeared in the forest.
A green lawn notched back into the trees. Near the cliff edge perched a massive metal-lattice crane. At the end of the crane dangled a floating dock, presently placed on the high meadow. Clearly, you could show up in your boat, engage the remote control, and swing the dock down to the water forty feet below for moorage. A long walkway dangled from the lower side of the crane boom, creating a bridge from ship to shore when it was in position.
Of course, right now, you’d have to be suicidal to brave the roiled winter waters.
Upslope, beyond the crane, a helipad had been leveled out in the middle of the yard. Even a bright orange windsock, which stood pointing like an angry finger to the north indicating a strong southerly wind despite the shielding trees.
At the head of the slope stood a very traditional stone house. The kind of house that would stand out even in an affluent neighborhood. Not for its size, though it wasn’t small, but rather for an English elegance. Ivy had climbed up the lower third of the front, creating a sunshield over a deep porch facing the view.
Daniel lost the view as the helicopter spun to face the wind and the wheels touched down on the helipad.
With the rotors still cranking, the crew chiefs piled out and tied the helo down to the large iron rings sunk into the helipad’s surface.
As the rotors finally wound down, and Daniel’s ears popped in relief, they all piled out into the roaring wind beneath a sky of crystalline, winter-blue and just stood there staring at the house. It was impossible, unlikely, and absolutely perfect.
The house looked pleasant, stood on neutral soil, and could be secured by a minimal team.
“Damn! That’s sweet.” Alice’s comment, barely louder than the wind, set them in motion across the lawn toward the house.
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