He leaned over and pushed the gun into her face. While staring at the gun touching her nose she heard a click. She flinched, and oh God, the squeak of fear had come from her.
General Sullivan smiled, the scent of breath mints and overpriced aftershave thick and cloying. “That was your harness locking into the seat so you won’t be moving around.”
He turned back toward the panel in front of him and started touching different controls. He seemed to be searching for something.
Does he even know how to fly one of these? “What are you looking for?”
“Why do you keep talking?” He resumed his scan of the cockpit.
“You don’t actually know how to fly one of these, do you?” Hysteria bubbled through the horror. She had a deep understanding right now of how Liam must have used humor in the past.
“Listen, bitch, I am not only a general. I am a fighter pilot.” His voice rose with increased agitation. “I can certainly fly one of these trash-hauling sorry excuses for an airplane.”
“Okay, okay”—she patted the air—“calm down.”
If he did get this thing off the ground, she certainly didn’t want him crashing the plane. Although if it took him long enough to figure this out, surely someone would come and stop this insanity.
He seemed to find what he was looking for and started flipping switches. The instrument lights came on, bathing the cockpit in a red glow.
The general looked out the windows and said, “Nobody around. Time to roll.”
He moved levers until an engine coughed to life. The cargo plane jerked into motion, moving forward toward the dimly lit runway ahead even as the general wildly manipulated controls, starting the rest of the engines. By the time they reached the runway they had a head of steam. He was figuring this out too fast. She needed more time. Where was help?
The general overshot the center of the runway and ended up almost on the grass.
“Piece of crap airplane,” he mumbled. “Steering’s screwed up.”
Felt like operator error to her. But best to keep that to herself. The last thing she wanted was more of Sullivan’s attention.
As she held herself still and quiet, she wondered what had happened to Liam and the others. If the corruption went this high up the chain, there was no telling how deep it went.
Sullivan veered back in the center and pushed up the throttles. Lights flashed ahead. Her stomach lurched. A security vehicle drove toward them about halfway up the runway.
Someone had figured out this was wrong. Someone knew. She wasn’t completely isolated with this maniac.
Except the airplane and the security vehicle were on a collision course, playing chicken in a game where no one seemed ready to give up. She threw her arms up in front of her face…
Swoop.
The nose lifted off the ground.
The plane bucked as they climbed. Up and down. Side to side. As the general turned the yoke back and forth quickly.
Good God, was an aircraft able to do this and stay airborne? Never, never, never again would she complain about turbulence during a flight. That was nothing. This guy was going to crash at any minute.
She’d put herself in dangerous situations her entire adult life. But not until this moment had she realized she’d done so hoping to join Caden. What a helluva time to realize how very much she wanted to live so she could fight to win back the man she loved—Liam McCabe.
***
Brandon’s body was on fire with pain.
His mind fogged with images of the bombing in the Afghan marketplace. Was he back in that nightmare, in some cosmic do-over loop where he screwed up again and again? He coughed, tasting blood. Clamping a hand to his chest, he felt the pulsing stickiness. If he just closed his eyes, he could sleep. As he’d done last time. Surrender to the pain.
Wake up in the hospital. Marked. Discredited.
Groaning, he rolled to his side, seat belt jabbing into his side. Seat belt? Not the marketplace.econd they all stepped off the back ramp of the cargo aircraft, they’d been split up for questioning. Although she didn’t understand why she and Brandon were placed with the general. She would have thought they would be separated in order to compare their stories. But no one had second-guessed the senior ranking officer when he’d issued the order for loading up. At least someone had had enough sense to send the dogs with Catriona.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Ms. Flores.”