Читать книгу Treacherous Skies - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 14

FIVE

What’s happening?

Connor looked out the window and saw nothing wrong. Nothing leaking from the right engine. No fire. No damage that he could see from where he stood, anyway. But he hadn’t imagined the muted blast. Maya’s reaction told him she’d heard it, too.

The Lear rolled to the right, throwing Connor into Maya. Time spilled into eternity as he found himself pressed against her soft, trembling body. When he searched her eyes—almost getting lost in their depths—he saw her terror.

Was she afraid they would crash?

Or more afraid they would land?

“I’m sorry.” He gently extricated himself from her, his thoughts split between her and getting to the cockpit. “Did I hurt you?”

Her eyes locked with his, she shook her head. Suddenly, he wanted to make everything right for her. Protect her. He shook off the momentary insanity, ramping his mind back to reality. Everything crashed into him at once—retrieving the Learjet, Maya’s kidnapping, the muted explosion outside the window.

The plane shook with a battering vibration.

Maya gripped the seat. “What’s happening?”

“You’d better strap in.” Connor left her and ran to the cockpit, a loud buzz resounding in his ears from somewhere in the back. He sank into the captain’s seat next to Jake.

“Is it the engine?” Connor asked.

“That was my first thought, but the instrument panel, temperatures and oil pressures show normal.”

Connor saw for himself that there was nothing different between the two engines. He took control of the plane, increasing speed.

“What are you doing?”

“Just trying something.” Control response improved with speed, despite the shaking. “I guess I’ve flown enough experimental planes that my instincts sometimes take over.”

The buzz morphed into a clacking sound—like a stick thrust into a big fan.

“How nice for you, but now we have a new sound, and no warning lights. What’s up with that?”

Connor didn’t miss the sweat beading on Jake’s forehead.

“Just inform air traffic control that we need to make an emergency landing,” he said.

“I don’t think we’re going to make Miami,” Jake said, then contacted ATC.

“Lear 46RH, we understand that you are declaring an emergency due to a small explosion and violent shaking. Turn left to the Golden Key airstrip, descend and maintain 8,000.”

Connor recalled what he knew of Golden Key. The resort island for tourists and the wealthy was just beyond the Dry Tortugas.

After Jake repeated the instructions, the air traffic controller continued, “Lear 46RH please say souls and fuel on board.”

Jake glanced at Connor. He knew Jake was thinking about Maya, their extra passenger. “Three souls on board and ninety minutes of fuel.”

As Jake finished the conversation, Connor watched the instruments. The plane’s vibration was starting to get to him. Maya had probably already crumpled in her seat by now. But there was nothing he could do to help her.

Then he saw it. “There it is. The right engine temperature is rising.”

“The left is still good,” Jake said.

“Let’s shut the right down and run checklists.”

“Whatever you say.”

Connor smiled to himself in spite of the circumstances—Jake was a good pilot. He’d never flown with his brother, but the pressure was on, and Jake wasn’t buckling under the crush. They shut down the right engine, and ran through the emergency engine-failure checklist to secure the failed engine.

“She’s still shaking, still making the noise.” Jake peered out the windows, as if he could see the answer out there, but only a mechanic could tell them what was wrong with the engine, and that, only after they’d landed safely.

“We’re flying at altitude on the one engine,” Connor offered. “We’ve done all we can do except pray.”

“And land. We’ve done all we can do except land.”

“We’ll be fine, Jake.”

“Don’t tell me. You’ve flown under worse conditions.” Jake’s statement revealed his increased antagonism toward Connor.

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Connor didn’t think it was the time to share all his other concerns with Jake.

Jake excused himself to use the facilities, leaving Connor with his thoughts. And those thoughts turned straight to what Maya had said.

That she suggested he’d stolen this plane, committing a crime, burned his gut. No way would Troy send him to do something like that. Would he?

Still, the accusation made him a little nervous. In their risky escape, he wasn’t even sure he had all the paperwork full of legal jargon. He’d stuffed it all in his jacket, he thought. He hadn’t exactly used the documentation to climb on board and fly away as he’d expected. But he needed it on hand if asked. Connor didn’t want to be digging through the paperwork when Jake got back from the bathroom. He’d wait until his brother had time to assimilate all that had happened.

Connor needed to buy himself enough time to work all the kinks out of this situation—to come out of it a hero this time. Funny that his attempt to gain some stability in his life, make his family proud of him, had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

So much for good intentions.

Connor squeezed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a millisecond.

That was all the time he had to breathe.

In less than half an hour, the pit of venomous snakes he’d stirred up when he’d repossessed this Learjet might be within striking distance, if Maya’s warning was true. She claimed that a drug lord had taken her, that Connor had taken his plane, and that he—or his men—could be waiting for them upon their arrival.

Was she for real? He wasn’t sure he could trust her, but considering what they’d been through so far, it seemed safer not to doubt her, at least on that point.

And now...if they actually landed it wouldn’t be Miami as they’d planned. Not a big international port-of-entry airport where he could be sure he was dealing with the right people. Since it wasn’t a port of entry, a Customs and Border Protection officer would have to meet them there. A small secluded island for tourists and the wealthy meant you could count on a few corrupt individuals, give or take.

In Connor’s experience, he’d learned that customs at JFK might snarl at you, striking fear in your heart even though you committed no crime, but it always seemed to him as though customs at places where the wealthy landed private jets operated under a different set of rules.

Considering this drug lord’s capabilities, things could be as Maya described. The man might have someone waiting there to retrieve his Learjet and abduct Maya again. Waiting there for Connor and Jake. But how could Connor know for sure? Regardless, he needed to prepare for the worst.

His brother returned to his seat and glowered.

“We have to talk about this,” Jake said.

No kidding. “Look, I’m sorry—”

Jake cut him off. “But before we do, you need to visit with your girlfriend back there. She’s not looking too good and didn’t seem interested in giving me any information.”

“My girlfriend? Hardly.”

“Yeah, well, this whole thing was your idea. Now you’ve rescued a kidnapped woman—indirectly or accidentally, I’m not sure which, and I don’t care. Helping her is a good thing, but I’m not sure how things will go down. From where I’m sitting, this all looks bad. Really bad.”

Connor thought Jake had wanted to talk later, but apparently he couldn’t hold his fury long enough. And Connor couldn’t sink any lower—now he had Jake berating him. But his younger brother had a point. They didn’t know what Maya would say when they landed. She could say they kidnapped her. At the moment, Connor needed to ensure that Jake gained control of his emotions.

“Panicking isn’t going to help us.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? Why do I ever listen to you?” Jake drew in a long breath. “What’s your plan now?”

“Take one thing at a time. First, did you find the GPS?”

Jake reached around his seat and held up a little box with a couple of wires hanging out. “With the way this day has gone, I’m surprised I didn’t need to climb around outside the jet to dismantle it. We’re fortunate it’s one of the mobile kind.”

Connor didn’t want to voice his thoughts that their day wasn’t over yet. “Good. At least we can’t be followed. All we have to do now is make a safe landing. And as for everything else that’s happened, this isn’t anything we can’t handle, but I think we might have bigger worries than how this looks.” Connor shoved from his seat.

“Great.”

“I’m going to see if I can find out more from Maya, and I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Don’t take too long. We’re about to start the landing sequence. I’m not sure how this thing is going to react.”

Jake’s words resonated through Connor—he wasn’t sure what to expect from anything in his life anymore. This simple recovery of a Learjet had certainly not turned out as he’d expected.

The plane continued to shake as he made his way to Maya, ordering himself to get some real answers from her this time. Her honey eyes and dark mane were an intoxicating combination and sent his breath catching in his throat every time he looked at her. It made him way too easily distracted.

What was the matter with him? Okay, he’d admit that he was attracted to her, but that couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t let it. Not just because he wasn’t sure he could trust her, but because he knew—from long, hard experience—that she couldn’t count on him.

If his life had been different, maybe he would want a chance to be friends, maybe even something more. But as things were, he wasn’t the kind of man women wanted for the long haul, and he would do good to remember that. He had the broken engagement to prove it.

* * *

Connor dropped into the seat across from her again, pulling her gaze and pensive thoughts from the window. The constant shaking unnerved her, and she feared they would end up in the azure depths of the Gulf of Mexico.

The handsome pilot’s eyes swam with the blue-green of tropical waters, and though worry tugged at the corner of his lips, his soft smile reassured her. If she were a woman who believed in fairy tales, she could almost believe that he was destined to rescue her. That they were supposed to meet somehow, somewhere, but under different circumstances.

Why couldn’t she have met him in the States, before she’d gone to Belize? Maybe he could have talked her out of going. But then again, once he learned the truth about her identity, he would have left her just as Eric had. Men could not be trusted.

Not her father. Not Eric. Not Connor. He would try to protect his own interests. She just had to convince him that those interests didn’t include the truth about her, at least until she was free of him.

Turbulence jolted the fuselage, adding to her anxiety.

She squeezed the armrests, hating the vibration, the shaking, the turbulence—all of it—but holding on to her composure. She didn’t want him to think her weak. She needed to remain strong in his eyes so she would have more negotiating power, should she need it.

“We haven’t crashed yet. Does that mean we’re going to live?” she asked, and even offered a smile. She needed to get on his good side, to convince him to listen to her plan.

He nodded. “Yes. I think chances are good we’re going to live.”

Maya wasn’t sure if he would tell her otherwise. “To face another day,” she added.

To possibly face Roberto’s men when they landed. Of course, Roberto couldn’t so easily take his plane back upon landing in Miami, but she’d wanted to incite fear in Connor. If he didn’t know who he could trust, he wasn’t as likely to tell anyone about the kidnapped woman he’d found on the plane he’d taken, and Maya’s chances of walking away from this were much greater.

“To face another day.” His smile grew wider, revealing two dimples on his left cheek.

She didn’t trust his smile—he wanted her to let down her guard, using the same tactic she was using on him. She’d started it, after all, but sometimes a smile was all you had.

Though she tried to resist, she liked the curve of his lips. When she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather go through this with even though she knew little about him. But she knew enough—she sensed he was a champion inside.

Someone’s champion, just not hers.

He didn’t seem to realize that about himself, though, despite the confidence he projected.

“We’ll be landing in a few minutes, an emergency landing at the Golden Key airstrip. It’s small, but adequate.”

His words wrapped around her throat and strangled her.

“Maya?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

“What happened to Miami?” She choked on her words.

“We’re making an emergency landing because of engine trouble. What’s wrong with Golden Key?” His soft, caring tone had turned brusque again.

“It’s not far enough away, that’s what’s wrong.”

She rubbed her temples. Maybe she was overreacting and should take heart in the way that she’d been rescued from Roberto’s grasp. Maybe landing in U.S. territory would be her freedom. But no. Her instincts told her otherwise. Roberto’s grasp reached into the Caribbean islands and the Keys—as had her father’s, in years past. She doubted much had changed despite the government’s best efforts. That much she could count on.

When she slid her hands away from her forehead, Connor studied her as if trying to determine if he could trust her.

She needed him to believe her, and the thought that he questioned whether or not he could trust her disappointed her on a far more personal level, surprising her.

“Do you really think this man has that kind of power that he will be waiting for us when we land?” he asked.

She drew in a calming breath. “Do you consider yourself a blessed man, Connor Jacobson?”

Contemplating a response, Connor stared at her, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “Once we land, if you have God’s favor with you, then you might slip through his hands. But if you want to stay that way, if we are even given the chance, then we must go our separate ways.”

A deep frown lined his face. Pain and compassion flickered across his gaze—the man was worried about her, more worried about her than himself. Her earlier misgivings about him—that he would try to protect his own interests at her expense—were wrong.

Such a small thing...Maya swallowed against the tightness in her throat...but that small thing had an enormous impact, touching a forgotten place in her heart that had long grown cold. The kindness in his eyes warmed her heart, overwhelming her, and giving her the sudden, crazy desire for him to wrap her in his arms, tell her it would be all right. She wished he would at least move into the seat next to hers—she needed to feel his nearness. Maybe she could draw strength from that.

But he remained in the seat across from her, watching her, the concern in his eyes disorienting her, confusing what needed to be a single-minded focus. Had it really been so long since anyone cared about her that a stranger could do this to her?

“I want to help you,” he said.

What? No...

While she’d wanted him to be sympathetic to her plight as a victim rather than believing she was involved in the drug world, she didn’t want to put him in any more danger.

Emotions warred on the inside while her father’s drug wars battled on the outside.

Then there was the way this pilot affected her as if she was piloting an airplane over the Bermuda Triangle and into the electromagnetic vortex—her instrument panel spun out of control.

She glanced down at her hands still gripping the armrests, her nerves on edge enough without the plane’s vibrating assault. Connor continued to watch her, waiting for her response—he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know the full extent of the danger they were in. She couldn’t allow him to get more entangled in her problems.

She shook her head, hating the burning at the backs of her eyes. No. She wouldn’t cry. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” Connor blew out an exasperated breath. “We’ve run out of time. Tell me what I need to know to do the right thing.”

“Haven’t I already told you enough? The man who wants me will not stop until he has me. Nothing and no one will stand in his way. You can’t help me, so let me go away quietly. I need to disappear. Don’t make any waves on my account. Don’t tell anyone I was kidnapped. Leave the jet and the island. Get as far away as you can.”

She hated watching the deep crease that appeared between his brows, but knew she’d hit her mark.

“Connor, some help up here, please!”

“We’re not done with this discussion.” His tone resonated with the pressure of the situation, the burdens he carried.

The pilot left her to assist his brother in landing Roberto Hernandez’s Learjet that held Roberto’s prize—the abducted daughter of his Colombian drug-lord enemy.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, though she wasn’t convinced a safe landing would do anything but offer her back into the hands of her abductor.