Sinners and evil spirits shun the light. —Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller, Intrigue and Love, V, I Distracted during her initial approach, Rachel brought the plane around and made a second attempt at landing. Zeke was relieved when she brought them to a safe stop on the runway. He warned, “I know you’re upset—I’m upset. But let me check this out first, make sure it’s safe—” “That’s my van somebody’s lit up—” “Somebody who would probably rather burn you,” Zeke reminded her. Without waiting for an answer, he unstrapped himself and jumped out of the plane, then lit out in the direction of the vehicle. It was totally engulfed, its dark bulk disappearing inside the twisting, roaring monster of a conflagration. He hoped like hell that the arsonist was still close—and that it wouldn’t be Rachel’s female caller. Because he couldn’t strike a woman—any woman, for any reason—and he badly wanted to cram some asshole’s teeth down his throat. Zeke stopped short, pressed back by blistering heat.
