Indecent Intent (15 page)

Then Gabrielle noticed the driver getting back in the limo. ‘Wait,' she called to him as his door closed, then tapped on his window with her knuckles. ‘What am I doing here? How am I supposed to get back to the hotel? You can't just leave me here. Please, you can't.'

But the driver just laughed at her through the tinted glass and reversed the car in readiness to drive back down the track, and then he could not resist a comment at her expense and lowered the window.

‘This car is no hearse,' he called to her. ‘You just have a nice day now, d'you here?' And then the car moved forward and he was gone in a cloud of dust, leaving Gabrielle standing there, utterly bewildered.

She shuddered. What did he mean by that? What on earth was going on? Eyes wide with anxiety she turned and looked, questioningly, at the black girl who was walking towards her.

‘Hi, I'm Gina Campbell,' the girl said warmly. ‘We've not spoken before, although of course I've seen you around back in Florida. Mr Verity has instructed me to teach you how to fly.'

‘Teach me how to fly?' Gabrielle was stunned. ‘
You
are going to teach me how to fly?' She looked at the little plane. ‘In
that
thing?'

Gina nodded enthusiastically. ‘And we'll make it a bit of a sightseeing trip, too.'

‘A sightseeing trip?' Gabrielle was totally bemused, and felt sick with apprehension. Verity was up to something – she just knew he was. ‘What's he up to, Gina?' she could not help but ask.

‘Up to?' the girl looked genuinely puzzled by the question. ‘He's not up to anything. He taught me how to fly when he knew I was getting a little bored with things, so I guess he's being kind enough to do the same for you.

‘And we'll be flying over the Grand Canyon,' she went on, her enthusiasm restored, dismissing Gabrielle's conspiracy theory. ‘Won't that be something?'

Gabrielle didn't answer, but followed Gina to the little plane. Maybe her fears were groundless and Verity really did want to give her a change of activity and a change of scenery.

Strapped in the cramped cockpit Gabrielle looked at the bewildering array of instruments on the panel in front of her, but before she had a chance to ask what each one was for the plane started to taxi the short distance towards the runway.

‘Were – were you bought by Verity too?' she suddenly blurted, unable to suppress the question.

Gina stiffened and looked wistful, her brown eyes looking straight ahead. ‘I don't know what made my Sonny do it,' she said. ‘I thought he loved me – would always love me.'

‘Was Sonny your husband?' asked Gabrielle. ‘Did he sell you?' But Gina said no more, and the grim set of her jaw told Gabrielle that she was not prepared to say any more.

‘It was the same with me,' she went on, taking Gina's silence as confirmation that he was and he had – just like Tom.

Soon they were lifting off the runway and despite her other worries Gabrielle found the takeoff totally exhilarating, and once they were airborne over the desert she began to actually relax and enjoy herself for the first time in months, feeling free, a great weight lifted from her shoulders. In no time they were way out in the rocky, dusty wilds of Nevada, and the small plane was still climbing.

‘Now for the start of your first flying lesson,' Gina said.

Gabrielle frowned. ‘Can't I just sit here and enjoy the views?' she said. ‘I'm not sure that I want to learn how to fly.'

‘I have to follow Mr Verity's orders,' said Gina. ‘He wants me to teach you, so that's what I'm going to do.

‘Now, on the floor there are the pedals,' Gina started. ‘The front part of the pedals are brakes and the parts nearest to you are the rudders. Press the front of the left-hand pedal very gently.'

Gabrielle did as she was told and immediately the plane turned to the left, its nose dipping slightly. Gabrielle screamed with the shock of the movement, but Gina laughed and righted the plane to a steady course. ‘Look straight ahead,' she said calmly, pointing. ‘Isn't that the most magnificent sight you've ever seen?'

Trying to steady her breathing and slow her heartbeat, Gabrielle followed Gina's finger and gasped. It was the Grand Canyon, a spine-tingling wonder.

‘Over two hundred and seventy miles long, and a mile deep,' supplied Gina, as though she was a tour guide. She pointed over to the west. ‘And over there is the Hoover Dam. Built in nineteen thirty-one… quite an achievement in those days.'

They flew on, neither of them speaking, the only sound the drone of the little engine, then after a while Gina pointed along the canyon. ‘We'll go down in a minute and cruise along it,' she said. The little plane's engine roared as the girl made it swoop and dip over the rocky terrain, until Gabrielle wasn't sure whether she still had a stomach.

‘The wheel in front of you is also a control,' Gina said, recommencing the lesson. ‘Pull it back and the plane goes up, and push it forward and the plane goes down.'

The plane soared upwards as Gabrielle gripped the wheel fiercely. ‘Hey!' warned Gina. ‘Slowly… gently.' The plane dipped down and straightened up over the canyon as Gabrielle followed her tutor's instructions, and she warmed to the task, relaxing and thoroughly enjoying herself.

‘Is that good?' asked Gina, smiling at her. ‘Are you having fun?'

The plane dipped down into the canyon and Gabrielle, her senses peaked, felt that the sandstone walls were closing in on her, that the rocky floor was coming up to meet the swooping undercarriage – then she froze and Gina screamed as there was a horrible metallic bang and the plane lurched down to the left.

‘No,' she whispered instinctively, knowing something was wrong as Gina fought the controls, her limited experience not enough to correct the terrifying plummet into the canyon. ‘No…!'

Then she screamed in horror as the left wingtip brushed an outcrop and the plane juddered, although miraculously there appeared to be no immediate damage.

Gina was desperately trying to steady and right the plane, but it was now swooping from side to side, out of control. The left wingtip, suffering from the glancing impact with the outcrop after all, and the door on Gina's side were wrenched off, the fragile material being torn to shreds and cascading down into the deep ravines that flashed past beneath the stricken plane.

There was a horrifying noise and a bone-wrenching impact, and then Gabrielle realised she was alone in what was left of the plane, which had come to a juddering standstill at a frightening angle, its nose broken and dipped into the ground. There was a strong smell of fuel and Gabrielle knew she had to get out quick.

‘Gina!' she screamed, struggling with the lap strap. ‘It's okay, Gina, I'm coming to find you… I'm coming to help you… hang on…' She didn't stop to check if she was injured – it didn't even cross her mind that she might be or to do so. She had to get out of there. She was too concerned about getting out and for the welfare of her companion. As she struggled to climb down from the cockpit she was aware that the smell of leaking fuel was getting stronger, and the threat of being engulfed in a fireball spurred her on to move even quicker. Struggling over the rocks and scrub and boulders that formed the floor of the canyon was not easy, but she had to get away from the wreck, and she had to find the other girl.

‘Gina!' she called again. A cold wind cut through tears in her sweatshirt and jeans, but Gabrielle scarcely noticed the sharp pain from a gash in her bared belly, or the one in her knee. She stumbled blindly in her haste and panic, more than once, and had to stop to regain her breath, her breasts heaving with the effort it took just to move. ‘Oh, Gina, I'm so sorry,' she wailed, tears pricking her eyes as the realization hit her that finding the other girl was going to be more difficult than she'd first thought – if not totally impossible. ‘Please call out…' she said, more to herself than the girl. ‘Please let me know where you are.'

Then a cry so faint it could have been the sound of the wind whistling around the strange outcrops of rock that littered the floor of the canyon reached Gabrielle's ears. She stood very still, listening, and it came again. ‘Gina!' she cried, and stumbled on in the direction she thought the call had come from until a hand, as powerful as a vice, suddenly clamped over her mouth and muffled the scream that died in her throat as she was snatched from behind around the waist. Utterly helpless she was held to a strong male body, that much she sensed.

‘Your friend will be all right.' The words were whispered brusquely in her ear and she was forced to contain a sob by the hand that gagged her. ‘She is badly hurt and lies in a deep gully along the canyon, but she is being looked after and will be taken to safety. She fell from the plane like a wounded bird, and is very lucky to be alive. She has spirit.'

The coldly spoken words and the realization that she and Gina had come so close to total disaster made Gabrielle's stomach lurch and she struggled in her captor's arms, feeling she was going to be sick, but the grip on her bruised and aching body only became tighter. ‘I shall release you only if you promise to stop wriggling,' the deep voice said in her ear, ‘and promise not to make a sound.'

Despite her spinning thoughts and the trauma of what was happening Gabrielle heard what he was saying and nodded as much as she was able.

The man eased her round to face him; clearly aware that she might be injured, and she could only gasp when she looked up into the blackest eyes she had ever seen. He was tall, with a skin bronzed by the wind and sun of harsh Colorado winters and the blistering heat of the summers, darkening its natural tawny colour. He was handsome in a rugged way, with a profile made strong and austere by a hooked nose. He wore a checked woolen shirt and faded denim jeans, which left nothing to the imagination so far as his male endowment was concerned.

‘Who – who are you?' she managed to blurt, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was.

‘The white men call me Barney,' he told her, ‘but I was named White Eagle by my father.' His lips parted in a dazzling display of straight teeth.

Gabrielle hung her head and tried to stop shaking.

‘You are in shock,' he said, wrapping her in his muscular arms once more, letting her feel his warmth and the security of his hold. ‘The accident—'

‘It was my fault!' Gabrielle wailed, sobbing against his chest. ‘Gina's injured and lucky to be alive and it was all my fault!'

‘There is a cave.' He began to lead her quickly, ignoring her outburst, almost dragging her over the rough ground. ‘You must rest there and let me check you over.'

‘But I have to tell—!'

He grabbed her by the upper arms and gave her a violent shake that stunned her into silence. ‘You must do as I say!' he told her. ‘You must listen to me. We have to get you warm and make sure you are okay,' and the black eyes seemed to draw her in to him – into his very soul.

Gabrielle knew White Eagle wanted something from her – she could sense it. It was like a strong scent which drew her to him, made her drag along behind him, stumbling up a steep cliff and into the shadowy darkness of a deep cave. It was ancient, and had been used for centuries by generations of Colorado Indians.

Soon a comforting fire warmed her through to the bone and her shivering eased as she lay on the soft bed of animal skins White Eagle prepared for her. He towered over her, smiling at her wide-eyed expression as she stared at the ancient wall paintings.

‘This was a love cave,' he explained, ‘designed to excite the maidens before their sacrifice to the Sun God.' Men with hugely distended phalli stood around a girl bound to the stone floor with her arms and legs outstretched.

Gabrielle shuddered. Did she have some vague memory that the Colorado Indians had a similar history to the Incas? ‘A love cave,' she murmured, trying to absorb what had happened in such a short space of time, and what she was hearing.

And then the man knelt down on the bed of furs and started to feel her legs, slowly, pressing and squeezing, checking for damage, and inducing the occasional gasp from the exhausted patient. And then the strong but gentle hands moved higher, feeling her wrists and arms, her shoulders, her ribs, and then her breasts.

‘I must check how firm is your heartbeat,' he explained in response to her questioning look, but then his eyes became even more intense and his fingers moved to the neck of her sweatshirt and he eased it off her.

He dropped the garment to the side and paused for a while, watching her reactions, but without saying any more, and so weary was she, and so glad for the comforting presence of another human being, she lay quiet and accepting as his hands then moved to the button at the waist of her jeans.

There was nothing she could do – nothing she wanted to do – to stop him. He took off the tattered jeans with surprising dexterity, not satisfied until he had her completely naked, and already her body was arching in offer, her heels driving into the soft mound of fur as she spread her legs like the girl in the wall painting.

‘Yes,' he growled, ‘I knew it would be like this with you when I saw the plane. I could smell your female heat.' He was taking off his own clothes, removing his shirt, and then slipping out of his jeans to release his impressive manhood, which speared up from the dark bush of his pubis and swayed towards his muscled stomach.