Treacherous Skies. Elizabeth Goddard

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.