Micah stayed near the shoreline and moved with the stealth of an animal, creeping forward to where his sources told him the private runway existed at the back of the Worthington estate.
It never failed to amaze him how many wealthy people didn’t pay their bills. Recovery Inc. didn’t go after the little fellows who got strapped for cash and didn’t make a couple of car payments. They were in the big league, repossessing boats and planes and occasionally people who found themselves in trouble.
He shoved all thought of the business aside as he approached the Worthington estate. Despite the fact that it was after midnight, lights shone from the windows of the two-story mansion.
Micah skirted the house and headed for the back where he hoped his sources were right and the Cessna would be sitting on the runway. He didn’t expect a guard, but if there was one, Micah knew a dozen ways to incapacitate a man without killing him.
As the runway came into view, a sliver of moonlight danced on the wings of the small plane. Bingo, Micah thought with a sigh of satisfaction.
He crouched down in a stand of brush to one side of the runway and waited. He remained there for just a few minutes to make sure there were no guards, no patrols of any kind for him to encounter.
He never went into an assignment without planning for every contingency. If things went badly he knew not to expect help from any law enforcement agency. At best, the relationship between the men of Recovery Inc. and the local police force was one of strained tolerance. He had a feeling the authorities on Fortuna wouldn’t look kindly on him either.
After a few minutes had passed, he was certain that the plane was unguarded, ripe for the picking. Piece of cake, Micah thought as he moved forward.
He’d worn black clothes that would allow him to blend in with the night and he moved across the tarmac at warp speed.
Jason Worthington was so arrogant, so certain he was above the rules that guided ordinary human beings, he not only hadn’t posted guards but he also hadn’t bothered to secure the plane.
Micah opened the door and climbed into the pilot’s seat, pleased that it looked as if he were home free. Within three or so hours of flying, he’d have this little baby back in Kansas City in a hangar owned by Recovery Inc., ready to go back to the bank it now belonged to.
The most dangerous moment would be when he started the engine and prepared for takeoff. If there were guards in the area then the noise of the engine would alert them that something was amiss.
Hopefully he could get in the air before anyone got hurt or an alarm sounded. That was the way these operations were supposed to happen.
It took him only minutes to check that the plane was ready for flight. There was enough gas in the tank to get him back home and he was ready to get out of Dodge.
Troy and Luke would be pleased that the mission went without a hitch and Micah would be home in plenty of time to rest up for his date the next night with a statuesque blonde named Heidi. She was the only woman he knew who wanted a committed relationship less than he did.
He revved up the engines and took off, the euphoric pleasure of flight pulling a smile to his lips. But the smile froze as something poked him in the back, and he felt the warm breath of another person on the nape of his neck.
“I don’t know who you are or why you’re flying this plane, but if you don’t take me back to Kansas City I’ll shoot you.”
Micah shot a quick glance over his shoulder and fought his surprise. He’d planned for every contingency except the one in which a beautiful, dark-haired woman in a bridal gown held a gun to his back.
“That’s exactly where I’m heading,” he replied evenly. “Why don’t you put that gun away before it accidentally goes off and somebody gets hurt?”
The pressure in the center of his back didn’t move. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here? Do you work for Jason?”
“My name isn’t important and no, I don’t work for Jason.”
“Then, what are you doing in his plane?” She had a nice voice, low and melodic. And despite the fact that she held a gun to his back, Micah felt no fear. If her intention had been to shoot him, she would have already pulled the trigger. She wouldn’t have waited until they were up in the air. Unless she was a skilled pilot, she wouldn’t shoot the man behind the controls.
“I work for an agency that recovers items when they haven’t been paid for,” he replied.
There was a long pause and the “barrel” of the gun bent slightly, letting him know it wasn’t a gun at all. “Oh my God, I’ve been rescued by a repo man,” she exclaimed just before he banked the plane sharply to the left.
CAYLEE WARREN cried out as the plane tilted and she was thrown across the small cabin into the wall on the opposite side.
She fell to the floor and then fought her long, frilly lace dress as she tried to sit up. “What did you do that for?” she complained as she finally righted herself.
“Because I don’t like backseat drivers who poke a finger in my back,” he replied.
She frowned in dismay. So, he knew it wasn’t a gun but rather her finger that she’d used on him. But when he snuck into the plane and prepared to take off and she realized it wasn’t Jason’s regular pilot, she’d been terrified. It was a state of mind she’d experienced for the past three days.
Once she was on her feet, she scooted into the copilot’s seat and looked at the man who, at the moment, controlled her life. “Okay, I don’t have a gun,” she confessed. “Are you really flying to Kansas City?”
She stared at him. His curly black hair did little to soften his lean, dangerous features and she hoped and prayed she hadn’t jumped from a frying pan into a roaring fire.
All she wanted to do was get back to her little apartment in Kansas City. She’d never go off on a trip with a man again unless they were married. In fact, she might never date again, she had so badly misjudged Jason Worthington.
“I’m really flying back to Kansas City,” he replied. He turned his head and looked at her for the first time. His eyes were a startling pale blue and narrowed in cool unfriendliness. “Now you want to tell me who you are and why you were hiding out in the plane? And I’m not even going to ask why you’re wearing a wedding gown.”
A flush rose to her cheeks. “My name is Caylee Warren. Three days ago I flew down here with Jason to be his guest for a weeklong vacation.”
“So how did you get into the back of the plane?”
“I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied. The last thing she wanted was to tell anyone how foolish she’d been. And God, she’d been foolish going off with a man she barely knew.
“Did you marry him or were you playing some kind of fantasy game? You know, doctor and nurse, cheerleader and quarterback, bride and groom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, once again a flare of heat warming her cheeks.
“Hey, I’m not the one dressed like a wedding cake topper and hiding in the back of a plane,” he replied.
“No, you would be the one stealing a plane,” she retorted.
“Not stealing, recovering,” he replied. “And if you’re going to sit there, buckle in.” It was a command rather than a request.
She did as he said, buckling the seatbelt around her. “I told you my name, now why don’t you tell me yours.”
“Micah Stone.”
Micah Stone. She rolled the name around in her head. It