Everything happens quickly after that. Something’s shoved in my mouth, my legs loosened until I’m back on the machine, and then we’re moving through the white ice again. Just white. White ice and white noise. No help. Just me - alone. And so cold. Too cold. Everything’s white and cold, and the visions keep coming. More snow, more ice, more nothing, as this machine vibrates and jostles. Only wind and cold.
Wind and cold.
~
“Alice?”
My eyelids crack open at the sound of my name, aching bones soon catching up with the fact that I’ve been asleep. I try stretching them slowly, try feeling anything else but agony and painful joints. That’s all there is, though, and the eventual sight of bright lights makes me squint in the glare.
“My name is Temple Greene. You’re in a jet.”
I groan and try pulling my legs up tighter to me, hoping for a reprieve from the pain.
And then I realise what he just said.
I scramble, as best I can, until I’m backed up to a wall with a handful of covers clutched to me. The low sound of the engines hum around me, the vibrations of the plane heavy on my naked back, and yet none of that means a fucking thing now I’ve taken notice of his name.
“Take me back,” I snap, eyes wild. “We’ll die up here.” He doesn’t say anything, just looks on as I try staying away from the sides of the plane, or the windows, or every fucking thing. “I shouldn’t be here. No one should. Put this plane back on the fucking ground.”
“No. We’re going home.”
“Home? Oh god we’re going to die.”
“Yes, back to Dallas.”
Everything about my near fucking panic attack stops, memories now coming at me full force. “Dallas?” cracks out of my dry throat. “Why?”
“I’m sure you know why.”
Fuck.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I snatch the covers tighter, thankful for the robe that seems to be draped on the side of the bed, and flick my head around wildly. “You must have the wrong person. I’ve never even been to Dallas.” My lie is said in hope if nothing else, because I know full well why I’m being taken there. Time’s run out, and our past is back to get us.
“Alice Contreas grew up in Dallas. As did your father.”
Shit.
Still. “Nope. Definitely the wrong person. My name is Ally, as in Alyssa.” I pull the robe towards me, wrapping it tight around me under the covers so I can try standing. It’s a bit wobbly at first, but I eventually get the hang of movement again. “Why do I hurt?”
“You were naked, in the snow. And then you decided to throw yourself off the motor sled. Unsurprising that you hurt.”
Realisation suddenly catches up with me full throttle – Malachi, the snow and the cold, and then all the memories start flooding back. They’re all fucked up, though, only parts of them flashing to tell me what the hell’s happened. “So, not only did you just take the wrong girl, you took her from Malachi Jones?” I snarl and glance around again, trying to control my breathing. “Should have checked first. He won’t be pleased. Apparently, I’m special.” I don’t know how true that is, but it’s one of the only threats I’ve got.
“I couldn’t care less about Malachi.”
“Who are you?”
He opens his jacket, revealing a gun strapped in a holster. “I told you my name. You know the rest well enough, Alice.”
I should flinch at the sight of the weapon so casual under his suit. Most women in this situation would. But I don’t. I know this family well, and I know the streets I grew up on well enough too. I can still feel the steel in my own hands from way back when, still smell the acrid stench of smoke from the barrels when things went south. “I don’t know anyone called Greene,” I lie.
He stands quickly, making me jump back towards the side of the fucking jet. It earns me a smile, or something close to one, before he opens the door and walks out.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I sweep my gaze around, searching for a phone. There isn’t one, and that’s not helpful because I need to let Whit know about this so he can get my brothers to safety. Although, if Malachi’s to be believed, they’re safe with his security team around them. Assuming this isn’t yet another one of his odd, freaky games and … Oh god. For fuck’s sake. There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to play along and then deal with it when we land, maybe try running the second the door opens. I don’t know, but one things for sure, there’s not a thing I can do until we’re on the ground. I need a damn drink.
Actually, I need to stop fucking panicking and think.
