The toilet flushed and Thomas returned. “I thought you might try to leave something in there, like a message. Either you’re a fast learner and don’t want your ass beat, or you’re not very bright. Either way, I can’t wait to get you to my place and find out.” He bent down until our noses were mere millimeters apart. His breath reeked of coffee, twisting my stomach into more knots. “No matter how well you obey”—he emphasized the word—“I’m sure I’ll find some reason to turn that ass red.”
Though I bit my lip and told myself to remain still, I couldn’t stop my flinch as he reached out to once again tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Don’t look so worried, pretty lady. I’m sure I’m not as depraved as what you’re used to.” He shrugged. “Or maybe I am.” With a smirk he added, “You’ll have to let me know.”
I swallowed my response: Jacob might have lied to me, but he wasn’t depraved.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
When Thomas reached for my arm, I pulled away. “I can walk.”
He snickered. “For now.”
When I stood he told me to walk in front of him. As we made our way through the length of the pole barn, I scanned each area we passed: the garage, the long hallway, and doors to offices and workshops. Each area confirmed my fear: we were indeed alone. In the hangar, the final, largest area, I saw Father Gabriel’s stunning plane. Though months ago I’d only felt it, by all the windows, I knew it had to be the one with the soft leather seats. That meant Jacob had the smaller jet, the one that took only one pilot.
That meant Micah could still arrive any minute. I tried to think of a way to stall, but when Thomas cleared his throat and pointed to a door, I made my way in that direction.
As we stepped back outside into the late-morning sunshine, a cool breeze blew through my hair, causing it to swirl around my face. Fearful the change in temperature would be visible, I crossed my arms over my chest.
We’d exited the building all the way at the other end from the living quarters. Squinting against the brightness, I saw our destination. On the tarmac was a small white plane with a red stripe, and large letters and numbers on the tail. Unlike any of the planes Jacob flew, this one had a single propeller.
Thomas opened the plane’s back door. I presumed that on his way to the Northern Light the open area of the fuselage had been filled with supplies. Now, with it empty, he unfolded a seat and tilted his head.
Come on, Sara . . . Stella . . . do this. It’s your only chance to get away.
Inhaling, I climbed aboard and sat in a seat very similar to one in Jacob’s truck. There weren’t even any fancy straps, just normal-looking seat belts. Before I could latch mine, Thomas’s large hand reached across me, pulled the belt, and buckled it tight. Once I was secure, he allowed his hand to graze my lap and smiled.
“Three and a half hours.” He winked. “You might want to get your rest. You’re going to need it.”
Not if I put this knife in your artery first, asshole!
CHAPTER 8
Sara/Stella
Thomas had told me to sleep, but as we flew over Alaska with the sun streaming down, my nerves were strung so tight there was no way that was possible. Besides that, each time the plane changed altitude, I was certain I’d vomit. I’d even searched for some kind of bag but found none. Fear of what Thomas would do if I threw up all over his plane was the main motivation keeping my breakfast where it belonged.
All I could think about was getting free. It didn’t matter that through the windows and below was some of the most majestic scenery I’d ever seen. I’d always imagined Alaska covered in snow; however, at the Northern Light we never got much snow. It wasn’t because it didn’t get cold enough. It was that the latitude was so far north there was rarely enough moisture. Mindlessly I noticed that the farther south we flew, toward Fairbanks, the more the landscape below was covered with deep greens, rolling browns, and crystal-clear lakes. I debated my options as the beautiful blue sky I was used to seeing filled ominously with clouds.
The engine and propeller’s loud roar made it impossible for Thomas and me to speak. Before we’d taken off, he’d placed earphones over my ears, but unlike his, mine didn’t have a microphone. I wasn’t sure whether he could speak to me. If he could, he hadn’t. Maybe he thought I really would sleep.
As I peered up toward the front of the plane, I saw Thomas’s short hair and shoulders from around the seat. I sadly remembered the first time I’d asked Jacob to take me with him on his flights. At that time I’d wanted to be with him. However, now that I was away from the Northern Light and my perspective was different, I reasoned that I neither wanted to see Jacob again nor would allow myself to think about what he would do if he ever found me. Fear turned to indignation at the thought of his possible correction.
With each mile I concentrated not on the man I’d left behind or the one flying the plane, but on the one who would help me. I thought about Dylan.