Their Virgin Princess (Masters of Ménage #4)(44)

"Get ready," Dane shouted.



       
         
       
        

He grabbed the nearest backpack. All military guys carried them, big, weighty duffels with arm holes. He tossed one to Lan. "I'm going to try to pry the door open. When the water's two feet below, we start tossing out whatever we can't carry. It should float and if it doesn't, well, we know how to dive."

"Damn straight, brother, but we shouldn't have to. I found some rope. I was able to tie most of the luggage together. I'll haul it in." Lan's previous nerves had morphed into pure, grade-A special ops arrogance.

That was exactly what they needed because they didn't have anything left except for the stubborn belief that nothing and no one could take them down.

Dane stood at the door, braced himself, and threw it open. He stared down into the blue void below and prayed their stubborn arrogance was enough.



* * * *



Alea felt her stomach roll, but forced the bile back down. She'd never particularly loved flying, even when she'd learned how to do it. She'd taken the lessons for the same reason she did everything; it had been expected of her. Her cousins had learned, so she had, too, even when her hands had shaken. Even when everything in her body had screamed at her to stay on the ground. She'd conquered her fear and learned to fly.

Now she was going to learn how to crash.

Cooper's concentration was absolute. After the first couple of minutes, he'd settled in and was now nothing but cocky confidence. "Brace yourself, baby. We're going to hit the water hard."

She settled into the seat beside him and strapped herself down. On the horizon, she saw a tiny piece of land, yet another green jewel in a sea of blue. They would land as close to that little patch as possible.

Her hands shook. Nerves. Stress. God, she'd been given some kind of drug. She hated drugs. She'd fought so hard to get off them. She wanted to shove her fingers down her throat just to purge the rest out of her system. Now wasn't the time. Everything was still a little hazy, but she could remember plastering herself all over Dane. But she'd deal with that humiliation later.

Dumb slut. No one wants you. When the money runs out, we'll just kill you and no one will miss you. You're worthless.

God, she hated those voices, but they were always in her head, just waiting for the perfect time to start replaying and take her down. When she heard them, she just went to bed with her iPod on and her ear buds firmly in place. And she tried to forget. She couldn't do that now. She had to stay in the present.

No, more than that. She had to be useful. Alea refused to be another piece of luggage they had to haul around. They would do it. They would really put her on their backs and swim so they didn't leave her behind. 

God, these men of steel with iron will and big hearts, would never leave her behind. Would they if they knew the things she'd survived? Probably. They would save her if only because they were good to their cores. And they would feel sorry for her.

They couldn't know the whole truth. She wouldn't be able to stand their pity.

Cooper fought with the yoke, trying to angle the plane to ensure their best chance at survival.

A loud bang shot through the little plane.

"Dane? Lan?" She started to tear off her seat belt. She had to help them.

Cooper didn't look away from the horizon. "Stop right there, Princess. They're fine. I bet Dane just blew the door. That shit-ass island doesn't come equipped with a runway. I can't put us down on land. The trees are too thick. Unless …  Baby, go back and sit with Dane."

Her jaw dropped. Alea knew damn well what he was planning, and it wasn't happening. "Yeah, sure. I'll leave this seat when you land. In the water."

His jaw tightened. The plane jerked again. "It would be best if I set us down on land. That way you'll have the plane to take refuge in, and the metal can be seen from above."

"I'm not stupid, Cooper. The chance of the cockpit not folding in and killing everyone inside is miniscule if you take us into those trees. I'm staying where I am." He wouldn't play the martyr if it meant killing her, too. No way. No how.

Yes, they would lose the plane, but they would all have a shot at living.

And suddenly she knew deep down how significant that was. The question had floated through her head for a long time, since the moment she'd been taken … was living really important? She'd fought to survive in Colombia, but mostly because instinct had urged her. The human animal fought for its life, for the right to continue breathing from one moment to the next. But Alea had wondered in the darkest recesses of her soul whether she actually wanted to live. Because living was more than taking her next breath. Living meant being brave. Living meant taking chances.