Was her subconscious trying to tell her to go for the parachute anyway? Even if she wasn’t sure she could put it on right? If the general couldn’t find autopilot, he couldn’t chase her down in back. He might try to shoot her, but at least she would go down fighting.
Maybe he planned to parachute out before they shot him down? If there was any justice in the world, he would suck at parachuting as much as he sucked at flying planes.
And if he planned that escape route, she needed to beat him to the punch before she was left in a plane she most definitely couldn’t fly. She glanced over her shoulder to assess the possibility of—
In the gaping back hatch of the cargo plane, another plane flew higher and just behind. Not a fighter jet, either. It was larger, much like the one she was in, so she didn’t think a final shot was pointed their way. Images shifted in the shadowy haze between day and night. The other plane coasted so close, she couldn’t fathom how the pilot maneuvered. Or why. She squinted at something off kilter, something strange about the whole vision.
Oh my God. She jerked back reflexively.
A man dangled from a cable harnessed to his body. She inched to look again, careful not to draw attention from the swearing general. The cable swung closer to the back ramp. The helmeted man came closer.
Toward the open back ramp.
A man was—no kidding—being lowered into the plane. And not just any man. Somehow she knew it could only be Liam.
Bump.
The ramp slammed into Liam and sent him spinning away into the evening sky. She bit back a scream of horror. Heaven forbid that Sullivan figure out what was happening and jerk the plane around even more.
Then impossibly, incredibly, Liam swung closer again, arms extended, reaching for a cable that supported the ramp. He missed, swinging out to the side.
But he hooked his leg.
Then a hand.
And suddenly he was standing on the metal ramp. He released the cable attached to his vest, sending the line snapping away into the night.
A movement from the general yanked her attention forward. The last thing she needed was him noticing anything in back. Not now. Not when Liam had pulled off this unbelievable Hail Mary pass beyond even Chuck Norris legend.
Liam McCabe was an original and he was hers, by God.
Sullivan leveled his gun at her again. “Don’t even think about running for a parachute. I’ll shoot your kneecap before you can clear the cockpit. Just because you’re my hostage doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you, maim you, torture you. Are you with me on that?”
“Right… Of course…” Rachel faced front, working to keep his attention forward, to give Liam as much of an edge as possible, although right now it seemed as if he was capable of anything. Still, she would have his back any way she could. “I shouldn’t have even considered a parachute. I’m so sorry. The last thing I want to do is distract you from flying.”
“Be more careful from now on.” The general smacked her with the muzzle of his gun.
Pain exploded through her head. Sullivan arced his hand to hit her again. She fought the urge to cower, not to mention the urge to puke.
Liam launched into the cockpit.
Sullivan jerked with surprise, lurching the airplane sideways. Rachel slapped her hands against the window, bracing herself. Liam stood sure-footed and grabbed Sullivan’s gun.
He jammed the man’s own weapon right against the general’s temple. “That’s enough. Now fly the airplane. Just fly the plane. Nothing else. Rachel,” he said without looking away from the stunned general, “are you all right?”
Liam may not have glanced her way, but she heard the tense fear, the concern, and yes, even the love in his voice.
“I’m fine. Do what you need to do. I’m okay”—seeing stars and stifling the urge to vomit, but she was alive. Thank God, she was alive because Liam had pulled off the unimaginable.
The general put his hands on the yoke and leveled the airplane. “I could just kill us all. All I need to do is drive this plane straight down into the ocean.”
“Yes, General, you could try that,” Liam said with an unshakable calm she’d seen before, in the Bahamas, when he ran missions. “But I’ll shoot you before you descend even a hundred feet. And while I might do a crappy job flying a plane, I’m willing to give that a try rather than risk a guaranteed crash.”
Rachel watched the general’s eyes dart nervously. Sweat beaded his upper lip while Liam stood steady, a man in charge, a true leader.
“Okay then,” Sullivan said quickly. “You two can take parachutes and jump into the ocean. Your PJ buddies can rescue you out of the ocean. That’s what you guys do, right?”
“We could. And thanks for the generous offer,” Liam said with icy sarcasm, “but I don’t think you’ll want us to do that. See, there’s an F-16 that’s been following you for quite a while now. If we’re gone, you’ll be shot down minutes later.”