Treacherous Skies. Elizabeth GoddardЧитать онлайн книгу.
cupcake with red sprinkles. “I was afraid we’d be late. You hungry?” he asked.
The guard eyed the cupcake then glanced over at the hangar. Finally he shook his head. “No.”
Connor got the sense the guy wanted the cupcake, but thought better of it. Good. The man believed the story. “Suit yourself.”
Jake got out of the vehicle, his demeanor a little too cautious for Connor, but then again, the guns should intimidate any normal person. He slapped his brother on the back and slid the side of the van door open to reveal the food. Each of them grabbed a tray.
The guard slid his key into the Learjet door, unlocked and tugged down the steps, then lifted the top section for them. Jake hopped up the three short steps into the jet and then made a show of entering the cabin to deposit the plate after which he would slip into the cockpit where he would begin the start-up sequence. It would take thirty seconds for each of the engines to start, but they only needed one to taxi the jet down the runway, putting distance between them and the guards, and they could start the other engine during the taxi.
Connor handed off one of the two plates to the guard, buying a little time. The guard hesitated at first then finally took the plate.
“Help yourself. There’s an extra plate anyway.” He gestured to the van. “Drinks are in the van.”
He hopped up the steps and entered the jet, joining his brother. They had no more than ten seconds, if that, before the distracted guard noticed he’d been outmaneuvered.
When Connor spotted the guard heading to the hangar with the plate of cupcakes, he tugged the steps closed and shut them inside the jet.
Jake began the start-up sequence, and Connor watched the hangar through the small window.
Fifteen seconds and counting.
The guards appeared at the hangar entrance and launched toward them, holding their weapons in the air.
“Jake. Get this thing moving.”
Connor couldn’t lock the guards out, so he secured the door by holding the handle in place. They would be on him in seconds.
The door shook as the two gun-toting men tried to open it. They pounded on it, spewing curses.
The first engine fired up. Jake began taxiing the jet. The guards banged harder against the door.
Were they going to shoot? Connor held his breath and sent up a silent prayer.
Jake increased their speed until the guards could no longer keep up.
Connor dropped into the pale leather captain’s chair in the cockpit next to his brother. The first engine had reached the ten percent mark, and Connor brought number-two thrust lever forward.
Gunfire pinged the fuselage, sounding like the last couple of kernels of popcorn in the microwave. He hoped the bullets didn’t pierce the exterior.
“I thought you said they wouldn’t shoot?” In the close quarters of the cockpit, Jake’s glare felt more like a death threat.
“I guess they figure they’re in big trouble for losing the plane over a plate of cupcakes.” Connor thought that would make his brother laugh, but Jake’s expression remained solemn.
The Lear increased speed down the runway until they lifted into the air. Connor’s elation soared with the jet, his relief palpable. “Now that we’re airborne, get us clearance so we can start climbing to altitude.”
Communications complete, they continued increasing altitude. Heart knocking against his rib cage, Connor felt more alive than he had in months. They had actually succeeded.
He released a long sigh, his adrenaline-powered energy expended for the moment. “We made it.”
“Are you saying you had any doubt? Because you sure went out of your way to convince me it would be a piece of cupcake.” Jake laughed, his face finally relaxing. “I can’t believe I survived that.”
“Yeah, I guess I still owe you, then.”
“I’m not sure you can afford to repay me.”
“That bad, huh?”
“With the time you spent in Iraq getting shot down, and then flying those test planes, I’d say you’re accustomed to facing death on a daily basis. Me? I enjoy life too much.”
“Sorry about that. This wasn’t exactly what I imagined we’d face, either.”
In repossessing the jet, he’d fully expected to walk into the airport, present the required documentation—insurance, lease termination, power of attorney, the works—then file a new flight plan and fly the plane out. That was before he and his copilot brother had discovered the Learjet had been moved to a private, uncontrolled airfield an hour and a half drive from the airport in Belize City.
That also was before they’d seen the two armed men lurking near the jet as though they were expecting a hostile takeover. But it didn’t matter anymore. He and Jake had the jet now, and Connor was on his way to getting his life back on track.
While serving as a fighter pilot, he’d crashed and burned once too often, and the Flying Evaluation Board had deemed him unable to fly safely. He’d lost his wings and served out the rest of his term as an Air Liaison Officer. Then as a test pilot, crash and burn had officially become his M.O. or modus operandi.
Though most people didn’t consider an ex-fighter pilot anything but a hero, Connor couldn’t help but think of himself as a loser. He’d wanted to be an Air Force hero like his dad, like his grandfather, but he’d failed miserably. Maybe if he switched gears and gave up the risky flying jobs altogether, he wouldn’t be the loser of the family anymore. He’d be able to get back on speaking terms with Reg, his older, overachieving brother.
If he’d gotten on track sooner, then maybe...Connor would still be engaged.
Retrieving the jet would secure him the funds he needed to buy the aeronautical business that serviced the airport, making him an FBO, or fixed-based operator, and keeping him firmly planted on the ground.
Too bad the only way to get those funds had been another risky job. Too bad he had the feeling that settling down wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.
Wanting to shake the negative thoughts, Connor stood to shrug out of his jacket. A loud bang resounded from the back of the cabin. Stunned silence passed between Connor and Jake.
“I’ll check it out,” Connor said.
Dread sliced through him as he exited the cockpit. He hadn’t even considered searching the plane first. He’d assumed Jake would have at least taken a cursory glance in the lavatory since he was the first one on. But then again they hadn’t exactly had time for anything besides a quick escape.
As he strode down the aisle he took in the extravagantly furnished and spacious cabin. Rich, supple leather covered the reclining seats and walls, and an elegant wood veneer, the cabinets and accent trim.
The pounding continued and he searched the compartments for a weapon. It was reasonable to expect a person that would hire security with Uzis would also store a weapon for personal protection somewhere on this rig. Connor almost wished he’d smuggled his nine millimeter into Belize with him. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk, but he hadn’t known then what he knew now.
“Connor,” Jake called from the cockpit.
He spun around. Jake dangled a firearm from the trigger guard. “Found it under the seat.”
Connor made his way back to retrieve the gun. Once he held the nine millimeter in his hands he made sure a few rounds were chambered.
Glock ’n’ roll.
Jake cleared his throat. “You know what happens when we shoot guns on planes, right?”
His brother worried too much. Though using a firearm in a pressurized cabin wasn’t the smartest thing,