Brace yourself, he thought. He seemed to be saying that a lot today.
3
Of all the sights Mathilda Wheeler had expected—maybe some injured people, hopefully no dead ones—the last thing she’d pictured was a man standing in the middle of this high-end private jet holding a briefcase in one hand and what looked like a lunchbox in the other.
He looked…confused. And the briefcase didn’t really fit him, somehow. He wore all black—slacks and a black button-down shirt. He was going to absolutely roast once he exited the plane.
“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. Maybe that briefcase held a weapon. The way he was holding it, she wouldn’t be surprised. “We heard you crash. Is anyone else onboard?”
“Who are you?”
Suspicious. Wary. What if there were drugs in that briefcase? Maybe this was a drug-running plane. Who knew what went on in this unfamiliar part of the jungle. She didn’t even know the half of it, she was sure.
“My name is Mathilda, and this is Robert.” She beckoned to Robert to step forward. As a six-foot-four native Hawaiian guy, his presence would add a layer of “don’t mess with us” to the conversation. “Like I said, we heard you crash. And you are…”
The man gave Robert a long look, his expression unreadable. “Where are we?” he asked. “Which island?”
“We’re on the northeast side of the Big Island. Where were you headed?”
“Not here, that’s for sure.” Looking suddenly exhausted, he rubbed the middle of his forehead with the heel of his hand. “So this is one of the seven valleys.”
Good. He had a general idea of Big Island geography. The seven deep valleys had been formed by erosion along the slopes of the Kohala volcano. They paraded up the windward coast, from the farthest south, Waipi’o, to Pololu at the northern tip of the island. Most of that territory was completely undeveloped jungle or native forest. The Nahele Research Camp didn’t count, since no one lived there long-term.
She loved this jungle with every bone in her body, but it could be daunting to those unfamiliar with its challenges.
“Correct. If you know that much, you know we’re nowhere close to any kind of town or emergency services. You’re lucky we heard you and were close enough to bushwhack here.”
He gave her a long scrutinizing glance, as if trying to determine if she was lying or not. That irritated her to no end. It had taken her and Robert well over an hour to machete their way through the jungle to this spot. And now he was acting like she had to prove something.
“Expensive plane you’ve got here.” She made a show of scanning the interior. The seats were upholstered in cream leather, with touches of chrome. Every inch of it screamed sleek and modern and pure luxury.
She was almost embarrassed to set foot inside, considering she was wearing her soft-sided hiking boots, loose work pants, and an oversized chambray shirt to protect herself from bugs. Should she change into a power suit? Or maybe a skimpy dress?
He shifted the briefcase to his other hand. Jeez, did he think she was going to grab it?
“Is that gold?” She gestured at a champagne bucket on wheels that had rolled down the aisle. Of course she knew it wasn’t real gold, and didn’t care anyway, but if this idiot thought she was after his stuff, she might as well go along with the bit.
“It’s not, but you’re welcome to it. Doesn’t everyone in the jungle need an ice bucket?” His wry tone made her give a double take, as it was the first sign of personality he’d shown.
Robert stepped from behind her, picked up the champagne bucket, which was set into a kind of stand, and glared at the man. She nearly burst out laughing at his expression. Robert could look very fearsome when he chose. And apparently he wanted that champagne bucket.
The man cleared his throat. “I might as well tell you two that I’m…well, let’s just say that people will be looking for me. Powerful people.”
“Are you on the run from the law?” she asked innocently, though she knew perfectly well that he meant he was a big-shot. “It’s a good place to hide out, so long as you don’t mind the bugs, or the menehune.”
“Mene—?” He broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m not running from the law. My name is Lincoln Kerr and I head a multinational corporation. I’m expected on Maui, and the instant my plane is determined to be late, this place will be swarming with searchers.”
“Really? You think?” She shrugged. She’d heard of Lincoln Kerr. He was rumored to be looking for property on the islands to build one of those insane billionaire bunkers. She usually steered clear of guys like him, but it was two to one, after all. She might not look it, but she could fight. And fight dirty, if need be. In this jungle, she never went anywhere without her knife strapped to her thigh and her machete slung across her back.
“Okay, cool. Sounds like you’ve got your rescue all planned out. We’ll let you be then.”
“Thank you.” His stiff posture didn’t change.
She backed away toward the open cabin door. Robert climbed out first, then helped her jump back to the ground. The whole time, she expected Lincoln to change his mind, to call them back. But he didn’t.
Then, from outside, she saw something move in the cockpit. Was there someone else on the jet? Of course—there must have been a pilot. No way had Lincoln Kerr flown his own plane. Apparently billionaires didn’t care about what happened to their pilots.
She called through the open door. “Is there someone else here?” she asked Lincoln. “Someone injured, maybe?”
