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Dylan shot him a look that would have gotten her summarily fired had he seen it and, grasping Cat’s hand in hers, led the way down the narrow aisle until

they came to two empty seats across from the team physician who was sprawled out comfortably across her own row, grinning up at them. “Flying with the

big dogs, I see.”

“He’s too much of a pig to be a dog,” Dylan grumbled, stepping aside and gesturing for Cat to grab the window seat, then settling down beside her. “Who’s

the new trophy?”

“Eh,” Norton replied, shrugging, “somebody he met at some good ol’ boy beer swill somewhere, I’m sure.” The doctor laughed. “You sure can hear the wind

whistling between those ears.”

“Isn’t Mr. Johnson married?” Cat asked, adjusting herself in her seat and buckling the belt securely around her waist.

Dylan and Norton laughed.

“Horace wouldn’t know the word ‘fidelity’ if it came and bit him in the ass,” the doctor snorted, clasping her own belt. “I think he’s a majority stockholder in

the Bimbo-of-the-Month Club.”

“And he has a problem with me being gay?” Cat asked, offended.

Norton laughed again, but her chuckle was rueful. “Par for the course for idiots like him, Cat. Par for the course.”

Cat sighed, shaking her head. “That bites.”

“That it does, my friend.”

Plane seats were never intended for someone as tall as Dylan, and with her knees scrunched practically up to her chin and nowhere for her broad

shoulders to comfortably rest, she closed her seatbelt and willed the flight a quick one as possible.

Feeling Cat stiffen, Dylan turned her head to the side, smiling wryly. “Try not to let him get to you too much, Cat. He’s not worth it.”

Cat returned the smile. “It’s not that. Not really.”

Dylan frowned, noticing her companion’s sudden pallor. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cat replied, shifting a little. “I’m fine. It’s just….”

“The flight?”

“I don’t mind flying. I kinda like it, actually. But this plane. It’s just so…so….”

“Cramped?”

Cat blushed as she turned her head fully to look at Dylan, noticing for the first time how her coach’s body was crammed into the tiny seat. “Um…yeah.”

The feel of Dylan’s hand, large enough to palm a basketball with ease, completely engulfing her own served to chase the fears and tumult of the day back

into the dark recesses of her mind. A wave of lethargy swept over her, and as the plane’s engines powered up for its taxi down the runway, she felt sleep

claim her, her lolling head resting against Dylan’s shoulder.

A soft chuckle brought Dylan’s sharp gaze over to the snickering Kelly Norton, who gave her a cheesy grin and a waggling eyebrow before she turned away,

blatantly ignoring the look of death shot her way.

Sighing, Dylan rested her head back against the seatback and stared straight ahead as the small jet gathered speed and took off into the vast evening sky.

A dream, already fading, woke Cat from her sleep, gasping. Still tired eyes darted toward the window, where she was treated to a violent display of

lightening sparking through the roiling clouds enveloping their tiny plane.

She gave a louder gasp when the plane seemed to plummet a heart-stopping length before finally finding stable air beneath it again and leveling out. Her

knuckles white from the grip on the arms of her seat, Cat looked to her left. Both Dylan and the doctor were gone, leaving Cat alone in this part of the

plane.

She uttered a breathless cry as a brilliant bolt of lightning slashed almost against the window and the plane, once again, plummeted.

Hearing the cry, Dylan quickly ducked back into the passenger area and strode over to Cat, holding the seatbacks in order to keep herself from stumbling

about as the plane rocked wildly back and forth. “What is it, Cat? What’s wrong?”

“What’s….” Cat swallowed back the churning in her stomach. “…going on?”

Dylan shook her head. “We’ve got a problem. We’re almost over Denver and we’re gonna have to make an emergency landing.”

“Because of the storm?”

“No. Norton thinks Horace is having a heart attack.”

“Oh god. Is there anything I can do?” Cat sat up and struggled with the belt at her lap.

Dylan held up a hand. “No, keep it on. We’re going to land soon.” The plane dipped again, then tilted almost on its side, causing Dylan to nearly rip the

seatback from its moorings as she kept herself from being thrown down the aisle. “I hope.”

“Dylan?”

Dylan looked down into a pair of brilliant green eyes; eyes which held a strong determination, and the faintest spark of fear. The coach could relate. She

wasn’t ready to belt out “Ode to Joy” herself.

They both jumped, startled, as a lightning strike hit the plane, causing it to duck and shutter in a series of gut-wrenching dips and rises, as if it had

suddenly landed in an amusement park and was substituting for the roller coaster. The lights dimmed, then shut down altogether, before coming back on in

an eerie, flickering glow.

After a moment of relative calm, the plane wheeled crazily, uprooting Dylan and throwing her across Cat’s lap. She smacked her head hard against the

bulkhead and pulled against the G forces pinning her down, seeing stars. Her guts sank, and stayed there.

“Dylan?”

Cat’s voice was more than frightened now. It contained a note of terror which mirrored the one thundering Dylan’s heart.

Reaching up as she forced her body back against the seats at her back, Dylan grabbed Cat behind the neck and forced the younger woman’s head between

her own knees. “Stay down!” she shouted above the groaning and shrieking of tortured metal as the plane continued to drop. With the last of her energy,

she forced herself to roll on top of Cat’s huddled, shaking form, cradling her as tightly and as closely as it was possible to get.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Then all hell broke loose.

Dylan awoke, groaning softly at the abysmal pounding in her head. The groan turned into a sharp gasp of pain as she tried to wrench her badly jammed leg

from beneath the decimated row of seats at her back. It was her bad leg, the one that had ended her playing days, and even during the worst of times, it

had never hurt as badly as it was hurting now.

Taking several deep breaths to push herself past the pain, she wiggled her body as much as she was able, and finally freed her leg. The pain of blood

suddenly returning to the limb almost caused her to pass out, but she hung on to consciousness grimly, instinctively knowing she was in more danger than

a mere injured leg was telling her.

Realizing she hadn’t opened her eyes yet, she did so, and discovered that whatever had rattled her brains had also either struck her blind, or she was in

pitch blackness. She bet—and prayed—on the latter.

Blinking several times, she pulled her left arm out from where it had been trapped beneath her body and felt around gingerly, hoping for a clue to her

current situation. The very tips of her fingers brushed against several soft, silky strands, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of Cat’s shampoo. Her

fingers traveled further until they encountered a warm, sticky residue that could only be one thing.

Blood.

Ignoring the sharp, piercing pain in her knee joint, Dylan scrambled back and into the aisle, then came forward slowly, feeling her way. A strong hand

clamped on Cat’s unresponsive shoulder, and she gently pulled the woman upwards until she was sitting more or less upright. “Cat?” she whispered,