by Mary Winter
“Thanks.” He shifted position, noticing that Michel reached into the pocket of his coat. They’d been in the air a little over an hour by his guess, and when he’d spoken with Cali, this was about when he figured Michel would make his move.
Michel set the box on the seat beside him. When he faced forward again, he held a gun loosely in his hand.
Wings pretended not to notice and kept his nose in his book. He glanced out the window. It appeared they were over a pretty sparsely populated area of Arizona, maybe New Mexico. He closed his book and set it down next to him.
The plane bounced again and he sat back in his seat. The turbulence continued, and Wings willed Cali to smooth things out.
“Why?” he asked at last. “What are you doing?”
Michel lifted the gun. “Oh this? Just fixing the loose ends that were created. Don’t worry. I know enough to set the plane down. I’ll live.”
They wouldn’t. The unspoken words hung in the air between them. “Why?” he asked again, playing his role. He knew why. He also knew saying that Cali had nothing to do with his arrest would out his cover and put her in even more danger.
“I told you. My trip was cut short. Your lady may be one sexy pilot. Even if she’s not the one who called the Feds, she made the delivery. The getaway driver often doesn’t getaway.” He shrugged. “It’s just business. You weren’t supposed to be here. But it’s not personal.”
Something else was going on. Putting him on the plane, never mind that he asked for Cali, seemed a bit odd. Especially with the sabotage. There was more going on than either of them knew.
Chapter 6
Someone was going to have to make a move. Wings slowly stood, keeping his hands out in front of him. “I’m just getting a drink,” he said as he went toward the beverage bar. They’d arranged on a signal, and as he passed the cockpit door he tapped on it three times with his shoe. That was Cali’s signal to start their decent. They were a bit out of regular air traffic flow just for this reason.
He opened his bottle of water and returned to his seat.
“Once you’ve finished your bottle, I’ll kill you. My wife is a good as dead anyway.” He shrugged. “Cost of doing business.”
Michel sure liked using that phrase a lot and it was starting to get on his nerves.
Wings smiled. “If you must. But I won’t go down without a fight.”
Michel nodded. “At this range, I won’t miss.” He slightly lifted the gun in his lap.
“I don’t expect you will.”
Cali’s voice came over the intercom. “We’re losing engines. Please remain in your seats and fasten your seat belts. If the oxygen masks deploy, please use them.”
Wings didn’t have to fake the jump in his heart or the plummeting in his gut. Even though this was the plan, the jerk of the plane as one of the engines was cut still startled him.
“Looks like I might not get to kill you after all. Or maybe I shoot now and they find your body in the wreckage. No one will notice one more wound.” He grabbed his carry on and pulled out a parachute. “You see, I never intended to make it to Brownsville anyway.” He put it on.
Good of him to be prepared and to be open about his plans. The angle of descent increased. The plane bucked, fighting Cali’s slow descent.
Wings breathed deeply, stood, and grabbed his own chute from where he’d stowed it. He put it on his back, fastening the straps as if he were watching it happen to someone else. He knew what to do. His body still held the muscle memory. If it came to jumping, he’d be able to hang on to Cali and pull the chute for both of them. The problem was, with no one to control the plane, and the Cessna’s door still on, they had way too many things on which to snag themselves before they even got clear.
Michel whipped around. “You think you’re jumping? Tell me. Have you ever jumped out of an airplane?”
Fuck his cover. Adrenaline roared to life inside him, years of training taking over where the PTSD and anxiety thought to take hold. Using the element of surprise, he charged. With his left hand he grabbed Michel and spun him into the seats. He grabbed Michel’s gun with his right hand and tossed it toward the cockpit door. It banged against it and fell to the floor.
He’d instructed Cali that no matter what she heard that she wasn’t to open the cockpit door.
Michel lunged from the chairs, pushing Wings back. The strap of his parachute caught on the armrest of the chair across the aisle, and Wings pulled away to the sound of tearing fabric. He righted himself, aware of the steeper pitch of the plane, and landed a punch on Michel’s jaw. The man wavered and swung wildly, missing Wings. The plane shifted and he lost his footing, sliding toward the cockpit door. He managed to grab the gun and shoved it through the small opening where the cockpit door swung open. He slammed it close and scrambled to his feet just as Michel punched him.
He staggered, hitting the door and managing to keep it closed.
“Guys. We’re going down hard,” Cali said, and a hint of worry filled her voice.
Shit. He heard it, the sputtering of an engine trying to maintain momentum and failing badly. He shoved Michel back, away from the cockpit, and somehow managed to send him to the back of the cabin where he stumbled and fell against the seats. Wings used the plane’s descent to his favor and spun, letting all his weight press Michel into the back of the seat. He grabbed his arms and wrenched them behind his back, somehow managing to pull a plastic tie out of his pocket and secure it around Michel’s wrists.
The parachute hung at an odd angle off his back and he sensed at the rate and speed of descent there was no way he could safely jump anyway. And he wouldn’t. Not without Cali. He shrugged off the pack and heard the thud as it fell behind him. He leaned into Michel. “There’s a good chance we’re going to die anyway. Tell me, who hired you. Who’s in on this?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michel spat.
Wings punched him in the kidney. “Try again.” He heard the engine stutter.
“Brace for impact,” Cali’s voice sounded way too calm over the loudspeaker.
Distantly, his brain registered he was in a plane crash and he probably shouldn’t be standing. He refused to let Michel go. The force of the descent made it difficult for him to pull his knife, so instead, he rammed his knee into the back of the man’s thigh. “Try again,” he growled.
“I don’t know his name. I think he runs the charter agency frankly, because the voice sounds similar. I’ve got gambling debts. A lot of them. If I took care of Cali, he’d take care of me.” Michel said. “But I don’t want to die for him.”
It probably was too late for that, but Wings didn’t say anything. He wondered how Cali was doing, how she was keeping from freaking out. He wrenched Michel off the chair and sat him down on the floor. They immediately slammed against the back of the seats, and he shoved Michel over. “Grab the chair with your hand. Keep your head down. Knees in toward your chest. And don’t forget to breathe.”
Sure, things would be easier if Michel was just a corpse in the desert. Corpses can’t speak and certainly can’t tell everything they know. Wings mirrored the position, sitting sideways against the seat, tucking his chin into his chest.
“Here we go,” Cali’s voice. “Hang on. It’ll be over soon.”
The engine sputtered it’s last and the whoosh of the cabin depressurizing filled the air. He struggled to breathe against the crush of gravity and oxygen masks, too far to reach, deployed. Wings closed his eyes, then opened them again. He couldn’t leave Michel unwatched, though the man clung to the chair, head down, knees to his chest just as he was told.
The plane hit, glancing off of the ground to rise again.
Michel whimpered.
Wings focused on his breathing, on not tensing up because that’s how really bad injuries happened. Keep your joints lose and flexible. Though he wasn’t diving, the lessons remained. He winced as the plane hit again, harder this time, and the wrenching sound of metal against rock. The end
of a wing snapped against the side of the plane, shattering windows. He ducked, thankful none of the shards hit the back of his neck.
The plane lurched to a stop. A quick check, everything seemed to be in working order so he stood.
“Did we crash?” Michel asked.
“We’ve stopped. If you value your life and perhaps want to keep your ass out of prison a bit longer, sit there, shut up, and don’t you fucking move.” Wings glared at the man who didn’t even look up.
He didn’t wait for an answer because the silence from the cockpit worried him. He tried not to focus on the shattered windows, the hole where the wing had been ripped from the fuselage. The cockpit door had rolled open and Cali lay slumped over the controls. He cursed and bolted as fast as he could down the aisle and wrenched the door open wide enough to squeeze through.
“Cali! Cali” he called, dropping to his knees beside her. “Are you all right?” Of course she wasn’t. She groaned and blood dripped from a cut on her head.
He glanced around and found a small first aid kit fastened to the back wall. He opened it, grabbed an antiseptic wipe and dabbed at her head. Good. It wasn’t deep. “Cali. Wake up.”
Her eyelids fluttered. She groaned again and opened her eyes. “Did we make it? Because I hurt too much for this to be heaven.”
“We made it, sweetheart. Can you sit up for me?”
She straightened in her chair and sighed. “Are you hurt? This was sabotage. I know what we talked about, but the engine gave out. Something tells me if I hadn’t already started my descent we’d probably be dead.” She rolled her neck, then worked through her joints, shoulders and arms, down to knees and ankles. “I’m sore, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”
“Same here. And Michel is okay. Do you have any idea where we are?” He glanced out the cracked windshield. Rock formations rose from a desert landscape that reminded him of the time his family had gone to meteor crater as a kid. “Northern Arizona maybe?”
“I think so. We don’t have any power so the radio is down. I activated the emergency beacon when I realized what was happening, but I don’t know how long it’ll be until someone finds us.”
“We’ve got to make sure we’re safe. Stay here. If we’re in northern Arizona it won’t get too hot for us, and surely someone will locate us in a day or two.” The silence coming from the back of the cabin was bothering him. Maybe Michel was following orders, but he didn’t think that was the case. He kissed her hard on the mouth. “We’ll get through this. I’ll be right back.”
Wings knew they couldn’t count on the emergency beacon or even anyone seeing them go down. It wasn’t like they’d been flying over a very populated area. He went to the back of the aircraft, a sickening feeling in his stomach. The trickle of blood coming down the aisle confirmed it. The gun must have slid back out of the cockpit, because it lay next to a very dead Michel. He must have been able to cut his ties on a bit of metal or something and killed himself. With the silencer, they hadn’t even heard it.
He cursed under his breath. He’d hoped perhaps Michel would have been willing to turn state’s evidence. He turned to find Cali standing near the first row of seats.
“Is he…?”
“Killed himself. He’d told me someone had paid him to kill you. He had a parachute and said he knew enough to bring the plane down safely. He must not have counted on the sabotage. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to stay here.” Already the anxiety and the PTSD were screaming at him and his hands trembled. He grabbed their overnight bags. “Is there a bag or something we can fill with water. I know rule number one is stay with the crash, but…”
“There’s a dead body in here. I’ve never dealt with something like this. And now he’s dead.” Cali’s voice rose.
Something to focus on instead of his own fears. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. The FAA and NTSB will see that when they investigate the crash. The more eyes on the plane the better as far as I’m concerned. Michel told me he thought someone at your agency was the one who’d paid him. I wish I’d gotten more information.” He set the bags down on a set and pulled Cali into his arms. “We’ll get through this. We’ll figure out who did this and nail his ass to the wall. Okay?”
Chapter 7
Cali pressed her cheek against Wings’ chest wondering how he could be so calm. She’d just crash landed the plane. Her career could be done. Who’d let her fly now? And with her passenger dead, never mind that he’d killed himself… She shuddered and clung to Wings.
He had a point though. They couldn’t stay in the plane. Not with the dead body. Surely someone would come in a few hours for them. Right? She swallowed hard, winced at her throbbing headache, and stepped away, though didn’t let go.
Wings brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Better?”
“Yeah,” she admitted. Standing on tiptoe she brushed her lips across his. She intended the kiss to be a quick thanks. The instant her lips touched his, heat spiraled through her body. She grabbed his arm, noticing the muscles beneath her fingers and pulled him even closer. She parted her lips, needing to taste him, to surrender to him as the only thing she could count on in this moment. He cupped her hip and drew her close.
Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back. “We should probably make sure we’re safe and figure out where we are.”
“Yeah,” she admitted and released him. “We don’t need our chutes. How about those packs?”
“Let’s leave the drinks in the cooler a bit longer. I know that’s a complete 180. If you don’t want to come back in here. I can.” He turned back to the overhead bin and pulled out one of the parachutes. “There’s nothing in the back of the plane that we need at the moment is there?”
She shook her head.
He hung the chute across the aisle where the last row of seats was, presumably to block Michel’s body. He went to the door to open it, and after several movements of shoving found it was jammed. She’d feared that when they’d landed. The hole where the wing had been ripped off might prove to be a place to exit, though it’d be tight. She watched him explore it.
When Wings had told her that Michel thought someone at the agency had paid him, wheels had started to turn in her mind. She’d originally thought this was cut and dried. Michel had been upset at getting arrested and was trying to take her down. The more she thought about the situation, the more she remembered a guy she worked with. He claimed to be a manager, but she thought he was only an assistant manager. She’d never asked because he wasn’t in her chain of command. He always bitched about how she got the prime assignments and it wasn’t fair that she had some business class clients who always asked for her and booked her by name because of her smooth flights. In a business where downtime meant lost money, it made sense that he might have someone try to sabotage her plane. But did he have enough contacts to do that? He primarily flew the northwest corner of the country, going as far south as Vegas and as far east as Kansas City. She flew from St. Louis to Atlanta to Cincinnati and out to the Atlantic. Sometimes she’d taken charters from Miami to the Bahamas, though that was when the other pilots were already booked and only during spring break season.
“I’m going to squeeze out and see if we can get the door open. Can you try to push when I say so?” Wings asked as he stuck a leg through the opening.
“Yeah.” She glanced back at the parachute and wondered why he was so fixated with getting the door open. They could probably toss everything outside and squeeze through without worrying about getting back in. She didn’t want to come back, not with the body here. She checked her cell again. No signal. Where had they landed?
Her world tilted for a moment, and she sat down in the seat next to the door. She breathed deeply, trying to stop the world from spinning. She didn’t think she’d concussed herself when they’d landed. She’d just rested her head on the console for a moment.
“You ready?” Wings’ voice came faintly from outside.
“Yeah.” She stood
, pushing herself to her feet with the armrests and staggered to the door. She leaned against the wall and breathed slow and deeply until things righted themselves. The door rattled on its hinges as he tried to pull from the outside. She didn’t know what could cause the door to be jammed and suspected bent metal probably was holding it in place. “Ready for me to push?”
“Count of three.”
She didn’t bother grabbing onto the handle, just rested her palms against the door and on the count of three pushed. The door gave a little.
“Let’s try again,” Wings called.
He gave the count and she pushed on three. With a great screeching sound the door opened, and she had to catch the door frame to keep from tumbling out. She directed him on how to manually pull out the stairs. Something in the crash must have jammed them because they only pulled halfway out. She grabbed the rail and descended, feeling quite comfortable. When she reached the bottom she looked around. A desolate desert landscape reached them. “I don’t have cell service. Do you?”
Wings pulled out his phone and shook his head. “I didn’t inside the aircraft. None out here either.” He put his phone away. “We have plenty of time before sundown. A short hike to see if we can orient ourselves?”
She nodded and went back up the stairs to grab two bottles of water from the cooler. “Sounds good to me.” She returned a few moments later and descended the stairs and handed him a bottle. “I know there’s blankets and some supplies in the galley. I’ll be honest. I just take for granted what’s there since I usually do only short hops, but if we need to set up camp, I don’t think we need to go back in the plane. It’ll get cold, but we have each other for warmth.”
Wings looped an arm around her waist. “Is this a ploy to seduce me?” His voice lowered to a husky edge that in spite of their predicament had her heart fluttering.
“I was probably going to wait until we were back in our comfortable hotel room.” She kissed his cheek. “Let’s walk. I think it’ll help us both burn off some energy.”