She sat up, rubbing the gouge on her back. “What’s your name?”
“Rye Mallett.”
“Mr. Mallett,” she said in a murmur as she started to stand. He cupped her elbow to give her a boost. As soon as she was on her feet, she pulled her arm free and began brushing the dirt and twigs off the backs of her hands. They were nicked and scratched. One had a smear of blood on it. She shot him an accusing look.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were a guy.”
“It would have been nice if you’d made that distinction before coming after me. Armed. Was the gun really necessary?”
“Wasn’t, but might’ve been.”
“Do all pilots carry guns these days?”
“What other pilots do isn’t any of my business.”
She looked over at the plane. The damage appeared to be considerable. He’d been fortunate to walk away from the crash, much less have enough strength to overpower her and keep her pinned down. “You don’t seem to have been injured, Mr. Mallett. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” With that settled, she asked, “What about the box?”
“Do you know Brady White?”
“The man who manages the airfield? I talked to him on the phone tonight. He agreed to be here when you landed, although I don’t think he believed that anyone would actually fly in tonight. He said—” She broke off when a thought occurred to her. “He did show up, didn’t he? He turned the lights on?”
“Yeah. He turned the lights on.”
“Good. He did what he was supposed to, then.”
“According to your directions.” His jaw was tense with what appeared to be cold fury. His eyes narrowed on her again. “What’s in that black box?”
That was a question she had no intention of answering, especially since it had been posed with such suspicion. She said, “I didn’t see it in the cockpit.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Your only concern should be its delivery. To your client. Who happens to be me. Is it secured in the back of the plane? Please tell me whether or not it was damaged.”
“Wasn’t damaged.”
“I’d like to see that for myself.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“You have the gall to ask that when you were the one waving a gun around?”
“Didn’t wave it around. But the point here is that the mistrust works both ways. What’s so bloody important that the contents of that box had to get here tonight, never mind the weather?”
She held her silence.
“Hmm? Not even a hint? Come on. What could be so closely safeguarded and time-sensitive? The secret ingredient in Grandma’s candied yams?”
“This is no joking matter, Mr. Mallett.”
“You’re goddamn right, it’s not,” he said, raising his voice and taking a fractional step closer. “How come you were sneaking up on the plane?”