Page 3 of Lost In Kakadu

Abigail clutched her handbag and turned to Spencer’s assistant. “Goodbye, Tina. Enjoy.” Without a response, she lugged her bulging suitcase toward the glass door.

Spencer held the door ajar, and she stepped past him to navigate the avenue of witches hats leading to the plane. Wind whistled in her ears and the heatwave distorted her surroundings.

Her stomach squeezed tighter as a pack of wild dogs raced along the chain-link fence in the distance, kicking up a red dust cloud behind them. The small, white plane was barely a speck against the vast red panorama beyond.

It made the isolation seem even greater.

A man in a yellow vest stepped into focus. He waited at the nose of the plane. Everything around her vanished into obscurity as she searched his face for a sign that something was wrong.

But there was nothing.

His smile seemed pleasant, and he looked relaxed. And when he spoke, his voice was devoid of nervousness. She handed her case to him, and his yellow vest flapped open as he gathered the bag like it was a small child and pitched it into the luggage hold with careless disregard.

“Hey, careful with that!” she scowled.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He didn’t sound sorry.

“It’s okay, mate.” Spencer placed his hand on the man’s shoulder like they were lifetime friends. If it had beenSpencer’scase. . .

Abigail clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to point out that it definitely wasn’t okay. In fact, nothing seemed okay. She turned her back on them and reached for the railing. With each step she climbed, dread sank heavier in her stomach.

At the plane’s doorway, she glanced to her left. Uluru dominated the horizon; large, red, and proud. They’d explored the giant rock thoroughly over the last two days.

Spencer and Krystal had loved the trekking, but Abigail had been repulsed by the ghastly experience. They’d paid a fortune to stay in glorified tents, poorly serviced ones at that. The food had been practically inedible, too. Worst of all, though, no amount of money could remove the relentless insects or the oppressive heat.

She was truly relieved this part of the journey was over. Despite that, she couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Abigail entered the plane, and a young milky-skinned woman stared at her from the front seat, twirling a cranberry-coloured dreadlock as thick as a Cuban cigar. Abigail ignored her as she chose a seat near the open door.

But even with that open space, the cabin still closed in on her. Spencer would take pleasure in her fear, and he’d repeatedly told her she’d hate this part of the trip. Although she suspected he was right, she couldn’t back down from what she’d started.

I need to calm down.She reached into her handbag, removed a tissue, and cringed as she wiped greasy finger smudges off the window.

Spencer ducked his head as he entered the plane with a radiant smile. Full lips framed his flawless teeth and matching dimples punctuated his cheeks.

The young woman already seated offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Toni.”

“Spencer Mulholland, pleased to meet you.” He nodded his head in Abigail’s direction and lowered his voice, pretending to ensure she couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry abouther. She’s not accustomed to flying.”

He stepped past Toni towards the back of the plane where an older-looking man sat in the rearmost seat.

Another woman entered the cabin. She had furrowed brows and looked preoccupied as she fell into the seat opposite Abigail.

Spencer examined the new passenger, and Abigail’s heart sank at the visible approval in his eyes. “Hello, I’m Spencer. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” His voice was loaded with suggestive charm.

She looked up at him. “If you say so. I’m Madonna.” Her smile seemed forced.

“Oh, dear.” Spencer was the master at displaying sincerity. . . especially to beautiful women. “Had an unpleasant morning, did you?”

“Let’s just say I had other plans for Easter.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll have a great time.” Spencer turned and sneeredat Abigail. His piercing eyes and thunderous expression said everything. He might have at least allowed her the window. However, it was obvious she wouldn’t be afforded the same generosity Spencer gave his usual adventure-buddies.

Forcing down her disappointment and ignoring the familiar bristle of irritation, Abigail shuffled over, trying to ignore Toni’s amused grin as Spencer sat in the window seat.

Through the doorway, a tall, rangy man in faded jeans strode across the tarmac. The polished tips of what looked like crocodile skin boots flashed rhythmically in the sun.

He stepped through the door and her heart pounded as she stared at the tendrils of a black tattoo that snaked up his thick neck and licked his diamond-studded earlobe.

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