Читать книгу Treacherous Skies - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 12

THREE

Her honey eyes studied Connor’s, looking for the truth in his words.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She looked down as though examining her body and seemed to notice her disheveled appearance. She shook her head, but he wasn’t sure he believed her.

His heart ached. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Her well-defined dark brows furrowed slightly. “If you’re not working with—” she stopped midsentence, hesitating, measuring her words “—my kidnapper, then who are you?”

Okay. He could give her that much. But he had the strong feeling she was about to tell him who had kidnapped her, and he had every intention of dragging that information out of her.

“The name’s Connor Jacobson. I used to be a test pilot. And before that a fighter pilot in the Air Force.” Maybe a little background would earn some of her trust. He drank more water while fixing his eyes on hers. “But now I’m...” He didn’t finish. What exactly was he now?

“Maya,” she said, and stared at the plastic bottle. She tugged a strand of her thick mane, the color of dark-roasted coffee, away from her face, revealing the shadows under her eyes.

“Maya?” he asked, hoping for a little more.

That’s all she would give. It was enough for now.

Connor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I have a feeling, Maya, that you might know more about what’s going on than me. It would help me if you’d tell me what you know, like who kidnapped you for starters. And why.”

“I haven’t eaten since early yesterday.” She avoided his eyes and rubbed her hand over the soft leather of the seat. “Do you have food to go with the water?”

Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to believe him, though if he were in her skin, he’d be suspicious, too. He wished he knew how to completely convince her he wasn’t involved in her abduction, but that was only one of the many problems her presence on the plane presented.

The woman had been traumatized, and Connor would give her the space she needed for as long as he could before he pressed her for information.

He glanced at his watch. She had half an hour. After that, he’d need time to make a plan before they landed.

* * *

Maya watched the sturdy pilot rise from his seat, never taking his eyes from her, as though he was suspicious of her. Finally he had to turn his back—hopefully, in search of food.

Why would he be suspicious of her? It’s not as if she had a weapon or could hurt him. Though she had inflicted some damage to his jaw, she was the victim here.

How she wanted to trust him, to believe that God had sent someone to rescue her. But his story that he’d taken the plane and was flying it back to the rightful owner sounded so far-fetched it was difficult to believe. She knew the answer. She squeezed her eyes, reminding herself that her own situation was even more implausible. That’s why she wanted to avoid telling him what she knew for as long as possible.

When she’d woken in the dark with a throbbing headache to discover her wrists and ankles bound, and duct tape over her mouth, she’d quickly determined she was in the lavatory of an airplane, though it was larger than most she’d been in on commercial airlines. The distinct sensation of takeoff confirmed it. She tried to stand and unlock the door, but with her hands bound behind her back, it was impossible to reach.

Her mind screamed with memories from the last time she’d been kidnapped and trapped in a small, dark room. The horrors and fear of that time, locked away inside all these years, had suddenly become reality again. And that reality went by the name of Roberto Hernandez. His face was the last thing she remembered seeing before everything went black. Among her vague memories of her abduction, she remembered hearing that Roberto had a Learjet waiting to cart her back to Colombia.

The man was head of the drug cartel that rivaled her father’s, and he was the very same man who’d taken her as a child. Now he was back in her life. But why? Was he connected to her father’s no-show?

Her well-meaning plans and hard work to change her life, to escape her heritage as a drug lord’s daughter, hadn’t made any difference. Even living in a country that seemed like a world away from her birthplace of Colombia hadn’t kept her safe. She was back in the middle of hostilities between rivals, her limbs pulled and stretched by warring parties.

She had no idea how long she’d been out and given that she ached all over, she had to wonder what they’d done to her. Who had drugged her?

The pilot? Was he in on this, though he claimed his innocence?

He returned with a plate filled with an assortment of pink and chocolate cupcakes decorated in multicolored sprinkles, and an apologetic grin at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything more nutritious. The plate of sandwiches didn’t make it on to the plane,” he said.

“A sandwich would have been good,” she said, taking a cupcake. “But thank you for this.”

“At least a cupcake will tide you over until we reach Miami to refuel.”

Miami? At least he wasn’t headed to Colombia. For that she was grateful.

Ravenous hunger shoved aside her manners, and Maya ate one cupcake in two bites, licking the chocolate icing from her fingers.

She gazed up to find him still standing there, holding the platter. With his sun-bleached hair against tanned skin, strong jaw and cover-model looks, he was handsome as they came, but he also had a thoughtful gaze. Make that, concerned and distracted.

What was he up to in taking this Learjet? She got the feeling he was in the dark about the owner or else he wouldn’t have lifted it. He had that wholesome, Eagle Scout air about him.

“Why don’t you take the whole plate? You’re hungry.” He chuckled. “I’ll get some napkins and more water.”

She liked the sound of his laugh, and her earlier feelings of unease and suspicions were slowly fading.

A few seconds later, he sank into the seat across from her again, holding the napkins and water. She ate slower now, and finished off her second cupcake, then took another bottle of water from him.

At some point, he was going to ask her again what she knew, and she’d play dumb as long as she could, but she had a few questions of her own. “So, you said you took the plane on unfriendly terms. What does that mean exactly, and who are you working for?”

He was sitting back now, his elbow on the armrest and his forefinger over his lips. He arched a brow at her questions. His hesitation told her he still had his own suspicions about her, and was considering his response. She didn’t get that.

“Why don’t you go first?” he asked.

Maya had been about to eat another cupcake but lost her appetite and put it back on the platter. “Isn’t it obvious? I was kidnapped. I’ve got a lot more reason to be suspicious of you than you have to be suspicious of me.”

“Maybe I can help you.” Connor dropped his hand and squeezed the armrest. “Think. You have to know something. Who would want to kidnap you and why, for starters? For a ransom maybe? Or...did you get mixed up in something illegal? Maybe got in over your head?”

He had to be thinking she was selling drugs, of course, and someone had plans to make her pay. Or maybe he wasn’t thinking along those lines at all. But to Maya, that was the obvious scenario. She looked away, hating that anyone could ever think that of her. But the truth was not much better, in her opinion.

If she could make it out of this and back home without ever having to reveal her father’s identity and that she had planned to meet him, she just might make it home unscathed.

Please, God...

“I can see you’re not ready to trust me yet. But let’s at least be honest with each other. You know something. The name of your kidnapper was on your lips before you caught yourself. I have to wonder why you would keep that a secret.”

“Someone kidnapped me—I’m the victim here. Why are you treating me like this? Why would you question me? Are you in law enforcement?”

Regret filled his eyes, and he placed his hand on hers.

“I’m sorry. I had no right,” he said. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’ll contact the authorities and explain what’s happened, that we have a kidnapped woman on board.”

He frowned, apparently not liking the sound of his words any more than she did.

“You can’t do that,” she said.

“Uh, Connor?” the other pilot called from the cockpit. “You’d better get up here.”

“What is it?” he asked, but his Caribbean-blue eyes remained on her.

Of course, he wanted to know why she’d asked him not to contact the authorities. How could she explain?

“Connor. Now.”

Maya shoved from her seat and followed him to the cockpit. The other pilot gave her a cursory glance, his full attention focused on the object soaring ahead of them outside the window.

“Why is there a fighter jet harassing us?” he asked. “Is there a reason the military would be after us?”

After dropping in the other chair, Connor assessed the situation. “That’s not military—not anymore. It’s an old out-of-commission fighter jet, an A-4 Skyhawk.” The Skyhawk flew above and slightly ahead of them and rocked its wings. “Intercept aircraft. I don’t see his wingman, but he wants us to follow.”

Connor attempted to establish radio communication without success, which meant this intercept wasn’t legitimate.

The other pilot huffed. “He’s not responding? That figures, considering everything else that’s gone right so far.”

“In that case, he probably doesn’t want to be identified.” Connor rubbed his chin and looked behind him at Maya, his eyes boring into hers. “This just gets better and better. Uh, Jake, this is Maya, our accidental passenger. And this is my copilot brother, Jake.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at Maya. “Nice to meet you.”

His eyes weren’t convincing. “And you,” Maya said.

“What do you make of it, then?” Jake asked, quickly turning his attention back to their dilemma.

“I think someone is either upset that we’ve taken their Learjet, or they’re upset that we’ve taken their hostage, or both, and they’re letting us know.”

“And we’re not going to follow them, right?” His brother’s question begged for confirmation.

“Definitely not.”

“Who is ‘they,’ anyway?” Jake cut a questioning glance to Maya, his eyes a similar blue to Connor’s. “And how do we defend ourselves without weapons?”

When Connor didn’t respond, his brother continued. “Come on, Connor. You’re the fighter pilot slash test pilot. Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

Connor shook his head, his voice grave. “You know this plane isn’t rated to make extreme maneuvers.”

Maya felt an invisible hand squeeze her throat as if she could never escape Roberto, even thousands of feet in the air.