Quickly realizing her intention, the man pulled some of the air she’d been holding into his mouth.
Jane broke free and reached for his seat belt buckle at the same time he did, only to find her own strength waning. She backed out and kicked to the surface, took several deep breaths as she groped for the knife on her belt, then gathered one last supply of air and dove back down to the open door to see the man fumbling with his seat belt again. Jane touched him, he jerked, and in a repeat of before, grabbed her. Not fighting him this time, she reentered the plane and sealed her lips to his again. He relaxed slightly and pulled in more of her life-sustaining air, then went back to fumbling with his belt.
Jane simply cut through the restraint and backed out of the plane while guiding him with her. They broke the surface together beside one of the floats, and Jane found herself having to hold his head above the water as he coughed and spit and gasped, his eyes closed and his face racked with spasms of pain.
He said a word. A curse, it sounded like, in a language she didn’t recognize.
“Come on,” she croaked on a shiver as she started dragging him toward shore. Hearing the other plane approaching, Jane stopped swimming when it roared overhead and sharply started banking again.
“Dammit! They’re back,” the man ground out. “Where are we?”
Jane looked at him. He’d spoken English. “We’re in the middle of the pond. Where do you think we are?”
“I can’t see. Are we exposed? How far to shore?”
Jane gaped at him, realizing the skin on his face was red, as if sunburned. His eyes were running with tears and repeatedly blinking as he stared at the sky. There was a gash on his forehead, and he was keeping one hand tucked close to his side under the water.
He was blind?
“How far to shore?” he repeated, giving her arm a shake.
“Fifty yards,” Jane said as she watched the plane begin another low approach.
“If they start shooting, dive under the water.”
Neither had time to say anything else as the man in the plane diving toward the pond did, indeed, start shooting. She was suddenly pulled below the surface just as the water around them became a frothing web of streaking bullets. Feeling a searing sting on her upper arm, Jane silently screamed and frantically tried to surface. Surprisingly strong hands held her down until the frothing stopped and she was suddenly pushed upward.
“Where are you hit?”
“In the arm,” she said, remembering he couldn’t see. “I’m okay. It just grazed me.”
He cocked his head, listening. “We need to get to shore,” he said, shoving her in the wrong direction.
Jane shoved him in the right direction, which seemed to startle the man. She gave a small, hysterical laugh, which seemed to startle him even more.
“Don’t panic on me now,” he ordered harshly.
Afraid he might blindly try to slap her, Jane decided to bring him to account for his high-handedness once they were safely on shore. The plane of death flew over the lake once more, and the gunman unleashed his weapon again just as Jane and her half-drowned pilot touched shore, forcing them to run and stumble as she dragged him to a large stand of pines.
Never, ever, had she felt anything like the terror of being shot at so relentlessly. The machine gun sprayed the trees, the bullets kicking up the surrounding dirt as broken branches rained down on them. All Jane could do was crouch against the trunk of a thick pine, her knees locked to her chest and her eyes shut tight, not even able to manage a respectable scream. The pilot of the sunken plane was pressed against her, actually protecting her from flying debris and oncoming death. Jane instantly forgave him for sounding like a bossy jerk in the water. He was blind, in pain, and trying to protect her.
Well, he should! He was the one they were obviously trying to kill. She was just an innocent bystander. Heck, she was even a hero. She’d saved him, hadn’t she? He deserved to take a bullet for her.
No, then she’d have to deal with a blind, bleeding jerk.
Jane wiggled out from between the man and the tree the moment the deafening gunfire stopped, barely escaping his blindly grasping hands. “Oh, put a sock in it!” she snapped. “I’m starting to get a little angry here. I’m cold and