It isn’t. I promise. Just get out of the car. You can do this. I’m waiting for you.
Kate took a deep breath and let it out. The only thing standing between them was her fear. She handed the money to the driver and gripped the door handle, throwing it open. Committed now, she strode across the parking lot and through the open gate. She faltered a bit on the tarmac because there was no one waiting in the open door of the airplane.
I’ll stop at the top. I won’t get on the plane if I don’t see him.
Slowly she climbed the stairs, heart pounding. Too many emotions were competing for Kate’s attention. There was fear and anxiety, but most of all there was hope. That’s where she drew the courage to climb the final step and peer around the opening of the plane.
And there he was, standing there like some kind of ghost.
He lunged toward her and caught her right as her knees buckled. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to his body as she broke down, sobbing hysterically.
“Please don’t hate me,” he said, holding her so tightly it hurt, as if he was trying to meld her body to his.
She didn’t mind the pain because it grounded her and proved to her this was real. He lowered them into a seat, and she curled into a ball on his lap, her face pressed into his chest, fisting his T-shirt tightly in her hands. She couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t still the massive shaking of her body.
“What’s happening to her, Phillip?” Ian said.
“Just give her a minute,” a voice said somewhere off to her right.
“Sweetness, I’m sorry,” Ian said rubbing her back.
“Kate, my name is Phillip Corcoran. I work for the FBI, and I’m a friend of Ian’s. You’re safe, and everything is going to be okay. I want you to take a few slow, deep breaths.”
The words and the tone in which Phillip had delivered them helped to calm her a little. Ian’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her, but he loosened them slightly, allowing her to inhale fully. The smell of him, still so familiar to her, filled her nose as she breathed in. She nuzzled her face into his neck, feeling his warm skin against her lips as he stroked her hair.
“Everything’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m right here.” He held her for a long time, neither of them speaking, until gradually her shaking subsided. The shock and adrenaline rush had left her physically exhausted.
“The pilot is ready to take off,” Phillip said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to buckle her into her own seat.”
“No,” Ian said, holding her tighter.
He didn’t let go of her when they taxied down the runway or when the plane rose into the air. He never stopped rubbing his hands up and down her back, and he whispered in her ear, telling her he loved her, telling her how much he’d missed her.
Kate had never been so emotionally spent in her life. Though she tried, she couldn’t hold her eyes open, and she fell asleep in his arms.
The slight thumping of the wheels making contact with the runway roused Kate from an exhilarating dream in which Ian was alive.
Except that it wasn’t a dream because Ian was holding her on his lap, and the first thing he did when she opened her eyes was kiss her gently on the forehead.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Just outside DC.”
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Kate said. She touched his face, fingers skimming over his eyes, nose, mouth.
“Believe it, sweetness. It’s happening.” He wiped the tears that had filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. “Phillip and I will explain everything when we get to the house.”
Phillip Corcoran lived in an older, well-maintained colonial-style home an hour outside the nation’s capital. His wife met them at the door.
“My name is Susan. Come in, dear,” she said, taking Kate by the hand. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Kate’s throat felt raw from crying. “Could I have some water, please?”