9. Sloane #3
His gaze stops on my cheek.
Hale releases me. “Mr. Chernovar.”
Vadim doesn’t answer.
Hale steps away from me quickly, already arranging his expression into something defensive. “She came onto me.”
I stare at him.
He keeps talking. “I told her to stop. She got aggressive, and then she kicked me. You saw how she was acting earlier, she’s—”
I should say something. I should tell Vadim exactly what happened. Instead, I stand there frozen, still trying to make my body understand that Hale is no longer touching me.
Vadim looks at me. “Did he hit you?”
His voice is frighteningly quiet.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Hale sees my silence as an opportunity. “She attacked me first. I was trying to calm her down.”
Vadim moves.
There’s no warning.
One moment Hale is standing in front of me, and the next Vadim’s fist connects with his face so hard that his head snaps sideways.
Hale crashes into the galley wall, making the cabinets rattle.
Before he can recover, Vadim catches him by the front of his uniform and drives another fist into his mouth. Blood appears almost immediately.
Hale tries to cover his face, but Vadim does not stop. He punches him again, then slams him against the wall with enough force that something inside one of the cabinets shifts loudly.
Vadim doesn’t flail or hesitate. He knows exactly how to hurt someone.
Hale manages to raise an arm, but Vadim knocks it aside and hits him across the jaw.
I hear footsteps behind us, and then several people arrive at once. Marek reaches Vadim first and grabs him around one arm while Anton catches the other.
Hale slides down the wall, blood pouring from his nose.
Vadim tears partly free, and goes for him again.
“Vadim!” Marek gets between them, planting himself directly in Vadim’s path.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Marek.”
“Do you want to die mid-air?” Marek snaps, struggling to keep him back. “He’s the captain. He’s supposed to be landing us.”
Vadim’s eyes remain locked on Hale. For several seconds, I genuinely think Marek’s reasoning is not going to matter.
Then the cockpit door opens, and the copilot appears. He takes in the blood on the floor, Hale against the wall, Vadim being restrained by two men, and me standing beside the jump seat.
“What the hell happened?”
Vadim turns toward him. “Why did you activate the fasten-seatbelt sign?”
The copilot looks confused. “What?”
“You announced turbulence and ordered everyone into their seats. Why?”
The man glances toward the cockpit, then back at Vadim. “Captain Hale told me to put the sign on.”
“Was there turbulence?”
A hesitation. “No.”
Vadim’s expression changes. Barely. “What was the weather indication?”
“Clear ahead. Maybe some light chop later, but nothing requiring an announcement.”
The air seems to leave the cabin.
I look at Hale. His face has gone pale beneath the blood.
The copilot follows my gaze, and understanding begins to form. “That was his idea,” he says quickly. “He told me he wanted everyone seated for a while because he needed to check something in the cabin. I didn’t know what he was planning.”
Vadim looks down at Hale. “He is drunk.”
The copilot’s expression tightens. “I smelled alcohol earlier, but I didn’t realize how much he’d had.”
“He is not touching the aircraft controls again.”
Hale tries to push himself upright. “You don’t have the authority—”
Vadim takes one step toward him.
Hale stops speaking.
“You are fortunate you are still conscious,” Vadim says. “Don’t make me reconsider.”
Nobody moves.
Then Vadim looks back at the copilot. “You will land the aircraft.”
The man nods. “Yes.”
“Can you do it safely without him?”
“I can. I’ve flown this aircraft for years.”
“Then do so.”
The copilot disappears back into the cockpit and shuts the door.
Marek slowly releases Vadim.
Anton keeps his attention on Hale.
Only then does Vadim turn toward me again. The fury leaves his face when he sees me. Not entirely, but enough that I notice.
He crosses the space between us. “Sloane.”
I force myself to look at him.
His eyes move over my face again, lingering on the side Hale struck. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?”
I shake my head. “No.”
The word barely comes out.
Vadim reaches toward my cheek, then stops before touching me.
That hesitation affects me more than it should.
“I’m okay,” I say. My voice sounds distant.
“You are shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
Even I can hear how ridiculous that is.
He watches me for another moment. Then, before I understand what he intends, he bends and slides one arm beneath my knees.
“What are you doing?”
His other arm comes around my back, and suddenly the floor is gone.
I grab his shoulders instinctively. “Vadim.”
He straightens with me in his arms as though I weigh almost nothing.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you carrying me?”
He doesn’t answer.
Behind him, Marek says nothing for once.
Camille appears from the rear and stops dead when she sees my face. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her automatically.
Vadim keeps walking.
I’m aware of the men watching us, of Hale still slumped against the galley wall, of Camille staring after me, but everything feels strangely muffled now that the immediate danger has passed.
My body has begun to shake harder. I press my face against Vadim’s shoulder because I don’t want anyone to see.
His arms tighten around me.
“You didn’t have to beat him like that,” I whisper.
“Yes, I did.”
“You could have killed him.”
“I wanted to.”
There is no hesitation in his answer.
I lift my head and look at him. He doesn’t seem ashamed of the admission. Perhaps I should be frightened by that, but after Hale’s hands and breath and the sickening moment when I couldn’t scream, the cold certainty in Vadim’s voice makes something inside me finally begin to unclench.
He carries me toward the private room at the rear of the aircraft. When he reaches the door, he opens it without setting me down and steps inside.
Only then, safely away from the cabin and the eyes of everyone else, do I realize just how much I’m trembling.