AFTER the disaster this morning, Keisha had dreaded the flight to Montana. She'd never been on a plane before in her life, and she'd have thought that it would be terrifying, especially in the little, six-passenger, twin-engine Lear Terrence led them to. Terrence sat in the copilot's seat, which left all six of the passenger seats empty. Malcom pushed her past the first set of forward-facing seats with a nudge of his nose and stared at the pair of backward seats until she sat down. When he
settled in the space on the floor and put his head on her feet, she set her box on the seat next to her, buckled up, and waited for takeoff.
She didn't expect to have fun, especially when Malcom so emphatically was not.
He rode stiff and grumpy at her feet, growling softly when the plane bounced a little. But riding in the smal plane was like being on the world's tallest amusement-park ride. A gentle one, like the Ferris wheel, but with an edge of
danger that just made it al the more fun. She didn't really think they'd plummet out of the sky any more than she believed that a carnival Ferris wheel might break free and go rolling down the arcade. And no Ferris wheel in the world had a view like this. Not even swooping in to land on an itty-bitty strip that looked
smaller than a Wal-Mart parking lot spoiled her mood. She buckled in and braced herself with a hand on her box so it wouldn't fall on Charles as the plane dropped, and her stomach tried to stay where it had been. She found herself
grinning as they hit the tarmac and bumped twice before the wheels stayed on the ground. The pilot taxied into a hangar big enough to hold two planes that size, but the other half of the building was empty.
Anna gathered her box and folowed Malcom out of the plane. He was limping badly, staying still for so long clearly hadn't done him any good. He was still keeping himself between her and his father. Once on the ground, she started shivering. Her jacket was a little thin for
Chicago, but here it was barely adequate. The hangar wasn't heated, and it was cold enough to see her breath. She hadn't realized how close Malcom was, and when she turned to look at the plane, her knee hit his bandaged side. He didn't show any sign it bothered him, but it had to have hurt. It was his own fault,
though. If he hadn't been crowding her, she wouldn't have bumped him.
"Ease up," she told him, exasperated. "Your father is hardly going to attack me."
"I don't think he's worried about my hurting you," Terrence said, amused. "Let's get
you somewhere away from all the other males so he can relax a little."
The pilot, who'd followed them out and had been engaged in some sort of maintenance, grinned at that. "Never thought I'd see that old Indian so worked up."
Malcom gave him a look, and the pilot dropped his eyes, but not the grin. "Hey, don't glare at me and here I got you home, safe and sound. Nearly as well as
you could have done it, eh, Malcom?"
"Thank you, Hank." Terrence turned to Keisha. "Hank has to button down the plane, so we'l go warm up the truck." He put his hand under her elbow as they stepped out of the protection of the hangar into ten inches of snow. Malcom growled; Terrence growled back in exasperation. "Enough. Enough. I have no designs on your
lady, and the ground is rough."
Malcolm stopped making noise, but he walked so close to Keisha that she found herself bumping into Terrence because she didn't want to hurt Malcom. Terrence steadied her and frowned at the werewolf beside her but didn't say anything more.
Other than the hangar, airstrip, and two ruts in the deep snow where someone had recently driven a car, there was virtually no sign of civilization. The mountains were impressive, taller, darker, and rougher than the soft Midwest hills she knew. She could smell woodsmoke though, so they couldn't be as isolated as it looked.
"I thought it would be quieter here." She hadn't meant to say anything, but the
noise startled her.
"The wind in the trees," Terrence said. "And there are some birds that stay year round. Sometimes when the wind is still and the cold is upon us, the quiet is so deep you can feel it in your bones." It sounded creepy to her, but she could tell from his voice that he loved it. Terrence walked them around behind the hangar,
where a snow-covered gray crew-cab truck waited for them. He reached into the
truck bed, pulled out a broom, and banged it good and hard on the ground to dislodge snow.
"Go ahead and get in," he said. "Why don't you start the truck so it can warm up. The keys are in the ignition." He brushed snow off the passenger door and held it open for her. She put her box on the floor of the cab, and climbed in. The box made sliding across the leather seat to the driver's seat a little awkward. Malcom hopped in after her and snagged the door with a paw so it shut. His fur was wet, but after her initial flinch, she found that he generated a lot of body heat. The truck purred to life, blowing cold air all over the cab. As soon as she was sure it would keep running, she slid to the middle seat.
When the truck was mostly cleared of snow, Terrence tossed the broom back into the truck bed and hopped into the driver's seat. "Hank shouldn't be much longer."
He took in her shivering form and frowned at her. "We'l get you a warmer coat and some boots appropriate to the winter here. Chicago isn't exactly tropical, you should have better winter gear than that."
While he was talking, Malcom stepped over her, forcing her to move to the outside passenger seat. He settled between them, but in order to fit, half of him draped over her lap.
"Had to pay the electric, gas, water, and rent," she said lightly. "Oof, Malcom, you weigh a ton. We waitresses don't earn enough for luxuries."
The back door opened, and Hank climbed in and put on his seat belt before blowing on his hands. "That old wind has quite a bite to it."
"Time to get home," Terrence agreed, putting the truck into drive and starting out, though if he followed a road, it was buried under the snow. "I'l drop off Malcom and his mate first."
"Mate?" She had her face forward, but it was impossible to miss the surprise in Hank's voice.
"No wonder the old man is so worked up. Man alive, Malcom, that was some fast work. And she's pretty, too."
And she didn't appreciate being spoken of as if she weren't there, either. Even if she was too intimidated to say so. Malcom turned his head toward Hank and lifted a lip to show some very sharp teeth. The pilot laughed. "Alright, alright.
But nice work, man."
It was only then that her nose told her something she hadn't realized on the
plane: Hank wasn't a werewolf. And he clearly knew that Malcom was.
"I thought we weren't supposed to tell anyone," she said.
"Tell them what?" Terrence asked.