Rogue Darkness by Dianne Duvall

Fewer cars occupied it than he’d hoped. At an airport this size, most probably belonged to employees.

Sean pulled into a space near the others and cut the engine.

A small plane taxied into view on the runway.

“Is that them?” he asked with a touch of panic. Were they already on the plane? They couldn’t leave that quickly, could they?

“No,” Iris said. “They’re still stationary.”

He glanced at the dot, which didn’t move as the plane took off. “Okay, I’m out.”

“Good luck. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

Memorizing Nicole’s general location, Sean ducked out of the SUV, closed the door, and took off. The men posted at the checkpoint the vehicle carrying Nicole must have used didn’t even look up as he flew past with every ounce of speed he possessed. It took him only seconds to reach the back of the building, where he found a row of hangars and a single runway. Multiple bright white airplanes—ranging from small two-seaters to sleek jets that could carry twenty people—waited in front of the hangars.

Pausing in the shade of the FBO, Sean searched the lineup until he spotted the dark gray SUV parked at the far end near one of the larger jets. Two figures stood on either side of the lowered stairs. Both were big guys, like bouncers at a club. Neither wore pilot uniforms.

Four people emerged from the SUV and headed toward the gleaming white jet. Nicole walked unsteadily beside another woman, who kept an arm wrapped around her. To conceal a weapon pressed to her side, perhaps? They had also removed Nicole’s ponytail tie, leaving her long hair to hang down and hide her face. She moved slowly, almost shuffling her feet in a manner that indicated she might still be groggy from whatever sedative they’d administered, while two men brought up the rear.

Sean loped toward them. “Oi!”

The two men in the back—one tall and one short—spun around as the others stopped.

“Oi! Becca!” Thanks to the blood he’d infused himself with, his skin didn’t pinken beneath the sun’s rays, which puffy clouds dimmed now and again.

“What the hell is this?” one man muttered.

“It’s her boyfriend,” the woman said, her face creasing with displeasure.

“How did he find us? We ditched her phone.”

The woman skimmed Becca with a gaze and swore. “She has one of those damn smartwatches.”

Sean slowed to a determined walk as he neared them. Ignoring the others, he focused on Nicole and continued in a British accent, “Are you having a laugh? We have one little row, and you run off to your mum and your new dad? That’s bollocks!”

Interminable seconds passed while Nicole stared up at him, weaving slightly on her feet.

The tall man with blond hair and an athletic build wrapped a hand around her biceps. He must be the ass who’d hit her with the football.

A shorter, leaner man with light brown hair closed in on her other side.

“George?” she said finally.

Sean silently breathed a little sigh of relief. The effects of the sedative must be wearing off. He didn’t think she would’ve remembered his fake name if it weren’t. “Yeah. What are you doing? And who are these blokes?” He nodded at the men. “They look a bit dodgy if you ask me. Are they Nick’s men?”

Everyone perked up at the name.

The woman stepped around the men. “Yes. They’re Nick’s.”

Sean gazed past her at the jet and whistled. “You told me he owned a jet, but I didn’t expect it to be so big.”

“Do you know Nick?” the woman asked.

He snorted. “Of course I know him. I plan to marry his stepdaughter. Nick and I are tight.” Sean returned his attention to Nicole. “Look, I know my hovering is making you barmy, but can you blame me? I’m worried about you. You’ve had two blackouts that the doctors can’t explain.”

Nicole just groggily blinked up at him.

Sean frowned and reached out to touch her face.

The tall guy grabbed his arm.

Sean looked at the hand gripping his forearm, then at the guy who stood about three inches taller than him. “You’re gonna want to remove that hand, mate. Otherwise, you won’t be gettin’ it back.” He nodded toward the ass and asked Nicole, “Who’s this prat?”

The woman smiled. “As you said, he’s one of Nick’s men. During her run, Becca was hit in the head with a football.”

“What?”

“It was an accident. But she was on the phone with Nick when it happened. And he wants us to take her to get checked out.”

“Not without me, you’re not.” He addressed the ass again. “And I’m serious about the hand. What’s that saying you Americans are so fond of? Move it or lose it?”

“Kent,” the woman murmured, steadfastly keeping her smile. “Let the man go.”

Kent waited several seconds—each one of which ensured he would get a massive future ass-kicking—and let go. But he didn’t release Nicole’s arm.

Sean cupped her face in both hands. “Are you okay, luv?”

“She’s fine,” the woman said. “Just a little out of it. She had another blackout after the football hit her.”

“She doesn’t seem fine. Are you sure it’s safe for her to fly?”