Treacherous Skies. Elizabeth Goddard

Connor could return the sarcasm, the knocking grew louder.

      Connor held his weapon at the ready and swallowed—the last thing he needed was a situation in which he was forced to actually use the gun in his hands.

      He opened the door.

      Terrified, honey almond eyes stared back at him, the woman’s mouth smothered with duct tape.

      TWO

      Maya stared down the barrel of a weapon aimed straight at her.

      Her bravado bled out of her.

      No, not like this!

      She crumpled under the threat of a bullet to the head and pleaded with her eyes, while trying to force her muffled pleas through the duct tape. The man behind the gun narrowed his gaze as she begged with hers.

      When he moved in, a sudden surge of desperation exploded inside her. Sitting back in the lavatory, she seized what she saw as her last chance of survival and kicked him in the face, slamming her tethered heels into his jaw.

      The force of her kick propelled him against the wall opposite the door. Maya stood, prepared to fight her way out. Though stunned, he recovered too quickly.

      He moved his jaw in an exaggerated way, as though testing the damage, but stood prepared, regarding her with caution.

      “Listen, I’m not the bad guy here.” He put the gun away.

      How did he expect her to believe that when he was on a plane headed to Bogotá, a kidnapped woman in tow? She screamed, the sound bursting through her head, and charged him.

      He dodged, and she slammed into the wall. Raging pain burned through her shoulder, and though she tried to remain standing, turbulence and dizziness pushed her to the floor, where she lay heaving. Okay. So she couldn’t fight her way out of this with brawn; she’d have to use her brain—if only she hadn’t listened to her heart when her father called.

      Strong arms cradled her, then lifted her from the floor. “It looks like you’ve been through the wringer, but I promise I had nothing to do with it.”

      Maya started to buck in protest, despite the sincerity she heard in his voice.

      “Shh.” He placed her gently into one of eight comfortable leather seats in a lavishly decorated cabin.

      “If you’ll calm down long enough for me to remove the tape and the plastic ties, then maybe we can figure out what’s going on.”

      Remaining in the cockpit, the other pilot leaned over in his seat to eye the situation. Maya glared at the man who stood over her, wishing her eyes were stilettos. Maybe she could stab him with her stare.

      * * *

      The woman could slice through him with the look she gave. Connor took a step back and shrugged, his heart pounding in rhythm with his jaw at this new development.

      “Do you want me to set you free, or should I stuff you back in the lavatory?” Ouch. He cringed at his harsh tone.

      Her body language wasn’t very encouraging, and he felt cruel for not immediately cutting her free. But she could pose a threat. At the moment, he didn’t have a clue what he was dealing with.

      For a split second, he considered turning the plane around and giving her back. Finding an abducted woman inside the airplane he was repossessing was above his pay scale, or at least was another left-out detail for which he’d been unprepared. Regardless, he didn’t consider turning back to face submachine guns an option.

      She stared up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion, fear and anger.

      Connor sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but just calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He moved in, approaching her slowly as though she might bite if he moved too quickly. “I’m going to remove the duct tape. Is that okay with you?”

      Her fierce, but beautiful eyes softened if only a little, and she nodded, appearing resigned to her fate. Careful not to move too fast, he peeled the tape away from her mouth.

      She drew in a breath and groaned at what had to hurt, although he’d been gentle with the tape.

      Then her eyes sliced through him again and her mouth followed. “You’re not going to hurt me? I was kidnapped, bound, gagged and stuffed in the lavatory of the plane you’re on.”

      Ignoring her verbal attack for the moment, he reached behind her, cutting the plastic ties from her wrists with a knife from his ankle strap. Remaining guarded that she might try to harm him in some way, he cut the ankle ties, as well.

      She rubbed her wrists and ankles, now free of the ties, clearly relieved to be rid of them. “Where are you taking me?”

      While Connor watched her, he found two bottles of water in the refrigerator. “Thirsty?” He held one of them out to her.

      Giving him a wary look, she took the bottle and opened it. “It’s not drugged, is it?”

      Without waiting for his reply, she drank half the water. Her captors had left her for hours and now she was so thirsty she didn’t care if the water was drugged? A burning sensation started in the pit of his stomach as his mind wrapped around the fact he’d found a kidnapped woman on the Learjet.

      Connor sank into the seat across from her, uncertain how to reassure her.

      “I told you already,” he said gently. “I’m not the bad guy. I didn’t kidnap you, and I don’t know why you’re on this jet. I’m just doing my job and flying it back to the rightful owner. But I’ll admit, I didn’t retrieve the plane on friendly terms.”

      What had he gotten into? He took a swig from his bottle. “So it appears someone stuffed you in the lavatory for safekeeping, intending to take you elsewhere and you’re just my accidental passenger.”

      More like hazardous cargo.

      THREE

      Her honey eyes studied Connor’s, looking for the truth in his words.

      “Are you hurt?” he asked.

      She looked down as though examining her body and seemed to notice her disheveled appearance. She shook her head, but he wasn’t sure he believed her.

      His heart ached. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

      Her well-defined dark brows furrowed slightly. “If you’re not working with—” she stopped midsentence, hesitating, measuring her words “—my kidnapper, then who are you?”

      Okay. He could give her that much. But he had the strong feeling she was about to tell him who had kidnapped her, and he had every intention of dragging that information out of her.

      “The name’s Connor Jacobson. I used to be a test pilot. And before that a fighter pilot in the Air Force.” Maybe a little background would earn some of her trust. He drank more water while fixing his eyes on hers. “But now I’m...” He didn’t finish. What exactly was he now?

      “Maya,” she said, and stared at the plastic bottle. She tugged a strand of her thick mane, the color of dark-roasted coffee, away from her face, revealing the shadows under her eyes.

      “Maya?” he asked, hoping for a little more.

      That’s all she would give. It was enough for now.

      Connor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I have a feeling, Maya, that you might know more about what’s going on than me. It would help me if you’d tell me what you know, like who kidnapped you for starters. And why.”

      “I haven’t eaten since early yesterday.” She avoided his eyes and rubbed her hand over the soft leather of the seat. “Do you have food to go with the water?”

      Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to believe him, though if he were in her skin,