B

That was all she wrote.

He’d checked the location and checked the weather and nearly punched his computer screen in frustration. Could the plane have crashed anywhere worse? Brynn knew he’d be pissed about the danger of this particular job. That’s why she’d slipped out of the house without waking him. If he hadn’t crashed on her couch after their three-hour discussion the previous night, he wouldn’t have known for days that she’d gone on a mission.

And top it off with a serial killer on the damned plane.

No one could have survived the crash. The odds were against that. But, shit, why was there a killer on this particular plane? Did Brynn know? And go anyway?

She would go. It wouldn’t make any difference to her who was on the plane.

Liam cursed colorfully. Tyrone glanced at him but stayed silent, his mouth tight.

The little copter bounced, dipped, and jerked roughly in the wind. Liam ignored it. The sensations were so different between this baby bird and the mammoths he flew. Sort of like a Winnebago and a Miata.

“Fuck! Hang on!”

Liam’s gaze flew to his brother’s tense face, and then he read the controls. His heart skipped several beats; sweat instantly covered his forehead. Grabbing his seat, he looked out the window and estimated the distance before they smashed into the trees.

Daylight was fading as Brynn and Kiana entered the plane. Jim had hollered that he and Thomas would be in soon. They weren’t ready to quit searching for the packs yet. Brynn figured the missing packs weren’t going to go anywhere overnight, so she’d search again in the morning. In the light. The three of them hadn’t found a thing and she was ready to drop.

What a day.

Alex opened his eyes from where he’d stretched out on the cargo area floor, his arms tucked under his head. Ryan snored quietly on one of the thickly padded leather seats that looked like they belonged in a CEO’s office. She kept her gaze on Ryan, assessing. He looked comfortable but exhausted. The temperature inside the plane felt heavenly, and Brynn threw back her hood, running a hand over her low ponytail. To be inside an enclosure with hard walls and out of the wind and constant snow felt like she was at the Hilton. It just needed a hot bath. The men had closed in the ripped plane’s front end with packed snow. It looked like the inside of a kid’s snow fort. With luxury seating.

She felt Alex study her closely, his gaze heavy on her back. She finally turned his way and met his eyes. The lines of his face were taut and drawn, but she’d never seen him so relaxed and at peace. Amazing for a man who’d faced death hours ago. She felt her lips curve and her own worries lifted from her shoulders. They’d been very lucky today.

Kiana sniffed at Ryan’s boot and trotted over to Alex. He sat up and rubbed her head, a genuine smile crossing his face. Brynn swore the dog smiled in return. She also noticed Alex’s hand shaking slightly as he petted her dog.

“How do you feel?”

Amusement entered his eyes. “Alive.”

She cocked a brow at him, waiting. “Cold?”

“My toes are cold. That’s good. It means I can feel them. I feel bruised up and down my body like a tanker hit me. I think I reinjured my knee. And I’m hungry.” He smiled again, and she felt her skin heat under her coat.

He didn’t look like he minded the pain or hunger. “What did you do to your knee?”

“Now or originally?”

“I think I know what happened to it today. How about originally?” She kneeled beside him, pushing her dog out of the way and laying her hands on the leg he rubbed.

He froze.

Brynn jerked her hands back, eyes widening. “Did I hurt you?” She squinted in the bad light, checking his leg for blood. It looked OK.

“Ah, no. I think you shocked me.” He shifted on the floor and frowned at his leg. “Old hole from a bullet.”

“You were shot? How long ago?”

“A few years. Nearly destroyed my knee joint.”

“Work related?” she asked.

“Yes. It happens sometimes in my line of work.”

She waited for an explanation but none came. Who’d shot him?

“Do you want me to look at it?”

He met her eyes and grinned as her cheeks painfully flushed. Wrong thing to say.

“There’s no blood. I think I just overstrained a weak area. It’s gonna ache like hell for several days.” His smile stayed strong.

“Everything else OK?” Relief flooded her. Getting Alex out of those pants wasn’t something she could handle at the moment. “Are you cold?”

He raised a brow and shook his head. “Just my toes.”

“That’s right. You said that,” she mumbled, embarrassed she was repeating questions. She retrieved her pack from one of the seats and unzipped a side pocket. “Protein bar?”

“Please.”

“More ibuprofen?”

“Pretty please.”

She snorted but kept her gaze inside her pack. “Charming, aren’t you?”

“When I want to be.”

“And when is that?” Their light banter relaxed her as she continued to dig through her pack, looking for her little bag of drugs.

He didn’t answer.

She glanced at him, her hands buried. He was looking at her, his gaze serious…and something else. She looked closer at his eyes. Had he hit his head? In the plane the light was dim, and his pupils were dilated, nearly filled his irises, making his gaze dark and heavy. Warm.