Bat clung to her tightly, both of them enormously relieved the other had survived.

Dusti pulled back enough to get a really good look at her sister’s face. There was a red mark near Bat’s right temple. It wasn’t bleeding but it looked as if it might become a bruise. Her complexion was unnaturally pale but Dusti figured she probably had that in common with her. They’d just been in a plane crash, for God’s sake.

“It’s okay, Bat. I’m okay. Are you hurt?”

Bat eased her hold on her a little. “Nothing a good drink won’t fix. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Dusti gave a little nod but then looked away from her sister to stare in dismay at the cabin around them. Injured people were still strapped in their seats, but worse, a guy lay sprawled in his seat across the aisle next to the torn-away section of the fuselage. He was bloody and definitely dead. No one could be missing an arm that had been sheared off at the shoulder and survive. Bright red drenched his chest and lap—fresh and wet looking.

Dusti heard someone gag, only to realize she’d made the sound herself as bile rose.

Bat grabbed her face by cupping her cheeks. It jerked her horrified gaze away from the sight and forced her to stare at her sister instead. “Look at me and not that.”

Tears welled in Dusti’s eyes that she tried to blink away. She stared into her sister’s gaze, very much resembling her own since they looked so similar. “Oh God!”

“I know,” Bat crooned. “We survived though. We’re Dawsons. We’re tough, remember? Just take deep breaths. In and out. Remain calm.”

Dusti didn’t feel very tough at all. She was in shock, and she knew it. It was difficult to think, a surreal feeling fogging her mind. Too many awful things had happened in a short timeframe and everything seemed a nightmare at that moment. It helped to concentrate on her sister’s face. Bat caressed her gently with her thumbs.

“It’ll be fine. We both made it. We’re okay.” Her sister always knew how to keep her head—if not her tongue—in a bad situation.

“Sit down,” the spiked-haired man ordered harshly. “And I’ll spank you if you hit me with another shoe, you little hellion.”

Bat released Dusti’s cheek without missing a beat to raise her middle finger at the guy behind her. “Take a hint and get away from me, you perverted bastard. You should have picked another woman to molest.”

Kraven, if that was his real name, stepped closer. He looked dazed when Dusti glanced at him. He didn’t seem like someone you could be rude to without dire consequences, but her sister dealt with the dregs of humanity and didn’t seem overly concerned. She was used to stressful situations. Plus, her sister could be a first-rate bitch. That’s how she’d made partner at her law firm by the age of thirty-three. She defended the worst criminals, and had made a name for herself as a cold-hearted ball-buster in the courtroom.

Her reputation out of court had become even worse. A man had hurt Batina when she’d been younger so she avoided relationships now, treating all men equally—as if they were dog shit.

“I saved your life,” the clueless man said, not knowing he’d probably regret it. “I covered your body with my own to protect you, Cat.”

“It’s Bat, you moron. B.A.T.” Her sister turned her head to glare at him. “Back off, asshole. I refuse to deal with you right now. Can’t you see my sister is freaked-out? I’m trying to calm her down.”

“Crazy as a bat or bat-shit crazy. It fits,” the big guy said.

Dusti saw her sister’s nostrils flare and knew she had to act quickly. Her sister had a tendency to be harsh with her words when it came to men. The spiked-haired guy was bodybuilder-size, had to be at least six feet four, towering over them. The last thing she wanted was for him to attack Bat. The full-time bodyguard that usually stuck near her sister wasn’t along on the trip to intervene.

“Let it go,” Dusti ordered. “Let’s help the injured.”

Bat’s blue gaze narrowed when she turned her head to stare at Dusti again. “He’s irritating me and he felt me up!”

“That’s the least of our worries.”

“You’re right. I’ll ignore the big ape just for you this one time because I’m in shock too. I hope I’m not as pale as you look. You’re doing a hell of a ghost impression.” Bat cringed. “I shouldn’t have said that, considering the circumstances. Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s help out. People are hurt. Just breathe and focus on that, okay?” She released Dusti to reach inside her inner jacket pocket and then whipped out her cell phone.

Dusti felt a rush of relief. Her older sister was always the one to remain coolheaded in a crisis. They needed help, and Bat was obviously thinking the same thing. “Do you think you’re going to get a cell phone signal out here?”

Bat flipped open the case. “I hope so.” Her mouth curved downward into a frown a second later. She spun suddenly to glare at Kraven.

“You broke my phone with your gorilla-sized body.” She shoved the phone upward to show him the crushed face, parts of the broken screen falling to the cabin floor. “You owe me a new one. Give me yours.”

“It’s in my bag.” He pointed up to where the overhead cabinets had once been. “Wherever that is now.”

So much for that plan.

Bat was confronting the spike-headed guy yet again, who stood way too close to Bat as he argued back. Dusti turned away from them both. Kraven was the one who had grabbed her sister before the crash, after all, so Dusti figured if anyone deserved to be a target of Bat’s anger, it was him.

She got her first glimpse of the back of the plane and her heart nearly stopped.

“Oh God.”

“I know! I can’t dial 9-1-1.”

“Shut up, Bat,” Dusti whispered. “Look. Oh my God.”

Bat moved beside her and clutched her hand, which hung limply at her side. Her warm fingers laced with Dusti’s while they both stared toward where the rear of the plane had once been.

A big, craggy hole glared at them from five rows back, the tail section just gone—along with a few rows that had contained people.

The dreadfulness of it hit Dusti full force as she stared at the line of broke trees and scarred ground the plane had created when it had been dragged along the forest floor. A body remained still strapped into a lone seat in the near distance. It had broken free from its twin and the rear of the plane. No one could have survived that. The poor victim resembled bloody hamburger wrapped in soaked red clothing. It was impossible to tell if it had been a man or a woman.