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windpipe.
    â€œIt’s Dav,” he wheezed as her elbow pressed harder. “Carrie, it’s Dav.”
    â€œDav?” The pressure eased off and he drew in a lungful of musty air, still catching a faint whiff of the darkly sweet scent of the drug they’d used to knock him out. “Dav, it’s you? Are you okay?”
    As she clutched at his jacket, he felt the shaking in her arms, the tremble in her body. “No, but I’m alive, and thank God you are too,” he said with heartfelt relief as her shaking hands raced over him. He could tell she was bound as well, since her hands moved together, tugging at his shirt and his lapels. More than anything, he wanted to crush her to him, hold her tightly, feel her life. “I’m okay.” He said it over and over until she began to relax and stop running her hands frantically up and down his chest.
    Then he added wryly, “But when we get out of this, Gates is going to kill me.” He felt her stiffen, then felt a tremor rock her body. “Carrie, are you okay?”
    â€œBelieve it or not, I’m laughing,” she said, and her voice quivered. “Although that doesn’t seem appropriate. If we get out of this, Gates will probably want to kill me too.”
    â€œOh, Carrie,” Dav said, his heart sinking. “I am so sorry.”
    â€œHush, Dav,” she said, her voice firm and sharp now. “We’re here. We’ll figure it out. What is it they say? While there’s life, there’s hope.”
    Please God, let her be right .
    First things first—they had to figure out where they were and where they were going. “Can you see?” he asked.
    â€œOh, say can you see?” she sang softly, then giggled again, her voice returning to the wavery tremolo it had held before. “I think I’m still drugged up. That was far funnier than it should have been.”
    He grinned, even as he worried for her. In spite of everything she was magnificent. “Yes, it was.”
    She sobered a bit and added, “It’s a plane, it’s dark. No one else is back here with us.”
    â€œGood, that’s good.” He shifted, trying to make sense of it all. Unfortunately, that brought him in more intimate contact with her body, driving anything practical out of his head for a moment. “I wish I could see.” He felt his heart rate leap as she moved against him. The race of his blood made his bound hands throb.
    â€œYou’re too pretty to have a bag over your head,” she snickered. “Oh, Lord,” she half moaned. “I’m sorry. Don’t listen to me. I’m just drugged enough to say stuff and just sober enough to realize I’m being stupid.”
    Well, at least she thought he was pretty. That was something to take to the grave with him. “It’s all right,” he said, smiling at the thought of her talking without censor. “Can you use your hands? Can you feel anything around us?”
    â€œYes, I think so. Can you lift up?” she asked, then hummed another tune. He heard her faintly singing words. Something that sounded like “up, up and away...”
    Dav struggled to a sitting position, and both felt and heard her rustling around behind him. The bag lifted off his head with a rush, and he could hardly believe it, since he still couldn’t see. The fresher air, however, was like sweet wine and he drew in the cold, fuel-tinged air with gratitude.
    They were in a cargo plane, as he’d guessed, but it was smaller than he’d thought it would be. There were empty crates and bins strapped down to the grooved floor and walls, their gaping sides showing up as darker squares or rectangles in the gloom.
    â€œHow long have we been here? Do you have any idea?” he asked, scanning the space for any telltale markings or anything that could help them. Knowledge was power. In any dangerous situation, you had to assess the weapons