Standby (Open Skies Book 4) by Becca Jameson (popular e readers .TXT) 📕

Hatch nodded. “Possibly. That would be tidy.”

Jake sighed and ran a hand down his face. Too tidy. Incredibly unlikely.

Chapter 21

Shayla’s head was pounding. She groaned at the piercing pain as she tried to roll over to smash her temple into the pillow.

Except there was no pillow, and the mattress she was on smelled wrong. It was too thin and sunk in the middle.

Her eyes flew open as the breath left her lungs. She jerked her head all around, but it was almost pitch black wherever she was. She winced as she pushed to sitting, squinting into the darkness.

Memories of her last few lucid moments flooded into place. Hawke had shoved into her hotel room and drugged her. Where the hell was she now?

It was eerily quiet. And damp. There was a window, but it was fucking dark.

She wrapped her arms around her as another fact registered. It was cold. And whatever he’d drugged her with had left her with this splitting headache. She rubbed her temples with her fingers and held her breath, listening for any sound. Nothing.

Finally, she rose and headed toward the outline across the room, fairly confident it was a door. As soon as her hands landed on it, she found the handle and carefully tried to turn it.

Shit. Locked. Of course.

She took several deep breaths and leaned her ear against the door. Not a single sound. “Where the fuck am I, and where is Hawke?” she muttered under her breath.

She shuffled toward the window next, peering out into the night. Either there was no moon or the sky was overcast or both. The only thing she could make out was trees.

She felt along the wall next and then bent down to touch the floor. Rustic. Unfinished. This was undoubtedly a cabin.

“Fuck.” She had no way of knowing how long she’d been here. Hours probably. Assuming it was the middle of the night.

After dropping back down on the thin mattress on the decades-old cot, she rubbed her temples again. The pain was easing but not fast enough.

Think, Shayla. She had nothing on her. Not even in her pockets. No phone. No purse. Nothing. Thank God she was wearing jeans, a sweater, and sturdy shoes, otherwise, she would be freezing to death right now. Apparently, there was no heat in the cabin. She was pretty sure she’d be able to see her breath if there were enough light.

The sound of tires on gravel made her sit upright again. Headlights came through the window, giving her a better look at the room. Nothing much to see. There was an old dresser and a small table in addition to the ancient twin bed.

A door opened somewhere else in the cabin, and she made the split-second decision to lie back down and pretend she was still out cold.

Seconds later, the door opened.

She forced herself not to move a muscle.

The sound of Hawke’s voice chilled her to the bone much more than the cold weather. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered. “How the fuck long is she going to sleep?” He shut the door.

She listened as his footsteps receded, and then she blew out a breath. She was only going to be able to keep up this charade for so long. He wouldn’t buy it forever.

He must have picked up supplies somewhere because there was a lot of banging around. A faint light shone in under the door too, but not from electricity. It flickered in and out. Flashlight?

He was also muttering to himself. A constant running litany she couldn’t understand and probably didn’t need to. What she needed was to figure out how the hell to get out of this mess.

She slid off the bed and hurried over to the window, hoping it would open. It wasn’t meant to open though. It consisted of four small panes with a cross of wood in the middle. Even if she could somehow manage to slam something into it and break the glass, each hole would be too small for her to fit through. It seemed too sturdy to assume she would be able to shatter the wood. Maybe if she had a lot of time, but right now she didn’t have time or anything that would help her escape.

Besides, what the hell would she do next? She had no idea where she was and no coat. She could be miles from civilization.

Frustrated and scared out of her mind, she sat back down on the cot and tried not to panic.

Chapter 22

The moment Jake turned on his phone as the plane hit the ground, he saw there was a message from Raeann.

Finally spoke to Marilyn. Hawke has a hunting cabin in Washington. Forwarding you the address.

Jake took a deep breath as he showed the message to Hatch.

“Thank God,” Hatch muttered. “At least we have something to go on.”

Jake couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing as he waited for the plane to taxi to the terminal. His impatience grew as passengers deboarded like snails. As soon as he and Hatch were free of the jetway, they started running toward baggage claim.

“I’ll get a car. You grab the luggage,” Hatch stated as they rounded a corner to the conveyor belts.

It seemed to take forever for the luggage to arrive. If they hadn’t needed weapons so badly, he wouldn’t have brought luggage at all, let alone checked it. Finally, it came down the chute and he grabbed both bags just as Hatch showed up with the car keys.

It was the middle of the damn night when they started driving toward the remote cabin in the woods. It would take them an hour to get there, and they had no guarantee that was where Hawke had taken her.

Hatch drove. Jake decided to call Heather before anyone else.

She picked up quickly. “Jake?”

“I’m here. My friend Mack Carter is with me. Tell me what else you know.” Jake wasn’t interested in small talk, and he knew Heather would understand. He put the phone on speaker so Hatch could