I should’ve made Jackson come with us. He’s a trained naval surgeon. I know his treatment of her wound was sufficient, or he would’ve told me she needed further care.
But what if she’d lost more blood than he realized?
As I walk up to the VLJ aircraft, I notice the private airstrip’s operator is standing alone to greet us. This plane has the exact capacity we need to make it to my safe house in North Carolina.
“She’s fueled up and ready for takeoff, Mr. Bradshaw. Are you sure you don’t need a pilot?”
He doesn’t bat an eye at the bloodied and bruised state I’m in, carrying a sick woman with a stab wound.
“No, I’ll take it from here. No records.”
He nods. I told him we were going to San Francisco, but he knows that’s a lie.
“No, sir. I’m taking a walk at the botanical gardens with my wife right now.”
His pockets are padded well for his discretion.
I carry Kate up the stairs and into the belly of the jet. I lay her down on the bench seat inside, close to the pilot’s chair I’ll be operating from. In this plane, it’s all one open space. I grab the med kit stowed away in the above compartment, cracking it open to find a bottle of pain pills.
She tries to sit up, looking around us.
“Are you allergic to any medications?”
She shakes her head, and I notice the dried tears on her cheeks. I hold out the two pills for her. She opens her mouth. I place them on her tongue.
“I don’t have any water.”
She swallows them down. Her bandage is red, the blood seeping through.
“I’m going to get us out of here.”
She nods, and I reluctantly leave her on the bench to get us up in the air and as far away as possible from this place.
The towerat our destination has been radioed, and a helicopter will be waiting when we arrive. Air travel is the only reasonable means for getting away from immediate dangerwhen the attacker could very well be working for the Russian Mafia. Their endless resources rival mine, but they’re a step ahead in the game now. Which isn’t the position I want to be in when I have someone other than myself to look out for.
Until I know for sure, I’m just going to assume she’s innocent. I have no other choice. My internal struggle is too exhausting. I might very well be protecting a woman who’s on a mission to end my life, but so be it.
Kate’s asleep on the leather bench in the narrow aircraft. Her bandage is seeping blood onto the white cushion. My muscles are tense with fear as I kneel beside her. I reach out to brush a strand of hair out of her face.
Is she in shock, or has she lost too much blood?
Her blue eyes flutter open, slightly bloodshot.
“Hey, Cabernet,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her jawline.
“Hi.” Her voice is hoarse.
“I’m going to find him.”
She blinks at me, looking around as she attempts to sit up. I help her, avoiding the wound on her arm.
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know, but I will find out.”
Her eyes are wide with fear. This is a new experience for her. I’m guessing it could be the first attempt that has ever been made on her life...and it’s because of her association with me.
“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, Kate.”
