Treacherous Skies

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, he’d be suspicious, too. He wished he knew how to completely convince her he wasn’t involved in her abduction, but that was only one of the many problems her presence on the plane presented.

The woman had been traumatized, and Connor would give her the space she needed for as long as he could before he pressed her for information.

He glanced at his watch. She had half an hour. After that, he’d need time to make a plan before they landed.

* * *

Maya watched the sturdy pilot rise from his seat, never taking his eyes from her, as though he was suspicious of her. Finally he had to turn his back—hopefully, in search of food.

Why would he be suspicious of her? It’s not as if she had a weapon or could hurt him. Though she had inflicted some damage to his jaw, she was the victim here.

How she wanted to trust him, to believe that God had sent someone to rescue her. But his story that he’d taken the plane and was flying it back to the rightful owner sounded so far-fetched it was difficult to believe. She knew the answer. She squeezed her eyes, reminding herself that her own situation was even more implausible. That’s why she wanted to avoid telling him what she knew for as long as possible.

When she’d woken in the dark with a throbbing headache to discover her wrists and ankles bound, and duct tape over her mouth, she’d quickly determined she was in the lavatory of an airplane, though it was larger than most she’d been in on commercial airlines. The distinct sensation of takeoff confirmed it. She tried to stand and unlock the door, but with her hands bound behind her back, it was impossible to reach.

Her mind screamed with memories from the last time she’d been kidnapped and trapped in a small, dark room. The horrors and fear of that time, locked away inside all these years, had suddenly become reality again. And that reality went by the name of Roberto Hernandez. His face was the last thing she remembered seeing before everything went black. Among her vague memories of her abduction, she remembered hearing that Roberto had a Learjet waiting to cart her back to Colombia.

The man was head of the drug cartel that rivaled her father’s, and he was the very same man who’d taken her as a child. Now he was back in her life. But why? Was he connected to her father’s no-show?

Her well-meaning plans and hard work to change her life, to escape her heritage as a drug lord’s daughter, hadn’t made any difference. Even living in a country that seemed like a world away from her birthplace of Colombia hadn’t kept her safe. She was back in the middle of hostilities between rivals, her limbs pulled and stretched by warring parties.

She had no idea how long she’d been out and given that she ached all over, she had to wonder what they’d done to her. Who had drugged her?

The pilot? Was he in on this, though he claimed his innocence?

He returned with a plate filled with an assortment of pink and chocolate cupcakes decorated in multicolored sprinkles, and an apologetic grin at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything more nutritious. The plate of sandwiches didn’t make it on to the plane,” he said.

“A sandwich would have been good,” she said, taking a cupcake. “But thank you for this.”

“At least a cupcake will tide you over until we reach Miami to refuel.”

Miami? At least he wasn’t headed to Colombia. For that she was grateful.

Ravenous hunger shoved aside her manners, and Maya ate one cupcake in two bites, licking the chocolate icing from her fingers.

She gazed up to find him still standing there, holding the platter. With his sun-bleached hair against tanned skin, strong jaw and cover-model looks, he was handsome as they came, but he also had a thoughtful gaze. Make that, concerned and distracted.

What was he up to in taking this Learjet? She got the feeling he was in the dark about the owner or else he wouldn’t have lifted it. He had that wholesome, Eagle Scout air about him.

“Why don’t you take the whole plate? You’re hungry.” He chuckled. “I’ll get some napkins and more water.”

She liked the sound of his laugh, and her earlier feelings of unease and suspicions were slowly fading.

A few seconds later, he sank into the seat across from her again, holding the napkins and water. She ate slower now, and finished off her second cupcake, then took another bottle of water from him.

At some point, he was going to ask her again what she knew, and she’d play dumb as long as she could, but she had a few questions of her own. “So, you said you took the plane on unfriendly terms. What does that mean exactly, and who are you working for?”

He was sitting back now, his elbow on the armrest and his forefinger over his lips. He arched a brow at her questions. His hesitation told her he still had his own suspicions about her, and was considering his response. She didn’t get that.

“Why don’t you go first?” he asked.

Maya had been about to eat another cupcake but lost her appetite and put it back on the platter. “Isn’t it obvious? I was kidnapped. I’ve got a lot more reason to be suspicious of you than you have to be suspicious of me.”

“Maybe I can help you.” Connor dropped his hand and squeezed the armrest. “Think. You have to know something. Who would want to kidnap you and why, for starters? For a ransom maybe? Or...did you get mixed up in something illegal? Maybe got in over your head?”

He had to be thinking she was selling drugs, of course, and someone had plans to make her pay. Or maybe he wasn’t thinking along those lines at all. But to Maya, that was the obvious scenario. She looked away, hating that anyone could ever think that of her. But the truth was not much better, in her opinion.

If she could make it out of this and back home without ever having to reveal her father’s identity and that she had planned to meet him, she just might make it home unscathed.

Please, God...

“I can see you’re not ready to trust me yet. But let’s at least be honest with each other. You know something. The name of your kidnapper was on your lips before you caught yourself. I have to wonder why you would keep that a secret.”

“Someone kidnapped me—I’m the victim here. Why are you treating me like this? Why would you question me? Are you in law enforcement?”

Regret filled his eyes, and he placed his hand on hers.

“I’m sorry. I had no right,” he said. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’ll contact the authorities and explain what’s happened, that we have a kidnapped woman on board.”

He frowned, apparently not liking the sound of his words any more than she did.

“You can’t do that,” she said.

“Uh, Connor?” the other pilot called from the cockpit. “You’d better get up here.”

“What is it?” he asked, but his Caribbean-blue eyes remained on her.

Of course, he wanted to know why she’d asked him not to contact the authorities. How could she explain?

“Connor. Now.”

Maya shoved from her seat and followed him to the cockpit. The other pilot gave her a cursory glance, his full attention focused on the object soaring ahead of them outside the window.

“Why is there a fighter jet harassing us?” he asked. “Is there a reason the military would be after us?”

After dropping in the other chair, Connor assessed the situation. “That’s not military—not anymore. It’s an old out-of-commission fighter jet, an A-4 Skyhawk.” The Skyhawk flew above and slightly ahead of them and rocked its wings. “Intercept aircraft. I don’t see his wingman, but he wants us to follow.”

Connor attempted to establish radio communication without success, which meant this intercept wasn’t legitimate.

The other pilot huffed. “He’s not responding? That figures, considering everything else that’s gone right so far.”

“In that case, he probably doesn’t want to be identified.” Connor rubbed his chin and looked behind him at Maya, his eyes boring into hers. “This just gets better and better. Uh, Jake, this is Maya, our accidental passenger. And this is my copilot brother, Jake.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at Maya. “Nice to meet you.”

His eyes weren’t convincing. “And you,” Maya said.

“What do you make of it, then?” Jake asked, quickly turning his attention back to their dilemma.

“I think someone is either upset that we’ve taken their Learjet, or they’re upset that we’ve taken their hostage, or both, and they’re letting us know.”

“And we’re not going to follow them, right?” His brother’s question begged for confirmation.

“Definitely not.”

“Who is ‘they,’ anyway?” Jake cut a questioning glance to Maya, his eyes a similar blue to Connor’s. “And how do we defend ourselves without weapons?”

When Connor didn’t respond, his brother continued. “Come on, Connor. You’re the fighter pilot slash test pilot. Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

Connor shook his head, his voice grave. “You know this plane isn’t rated to make extreme maneuvers.”

Maya felt an invisible hand squeeze her throat as if she could never escape Roberto, even thousands of feet in the air.

FOUR

“I’m calling for help,” Jake said.

Connor squeezed the power lever, wishing he could take action. “Just who do you think is going to come to our rescue? And if we call for help now, they could shoot us out of the sky and be gone before anyone’s the wiser.”

“What are we going to do?” His brother ground out the words.

He didn’t blame Jake. Connor never should have dragged his brother with him into this over-the-top recovery operation. Should never have agreed to get involved with this in the first place.

“What are we going to do?” Connor repeated the question, considering his options, which weren’t many. Was he destined to go down again?

No. Thinking about his failures right now wouldn’t do any good.

He looked behind him at the dark-haired beauty—the hazardous cargo he’d found on the Learjet who might end up costing them all their lives.

“You’d better take a seat and fasten your seat belt,” he said.

“What...what are you going to do?” Maya hesitated in the doorway.

Connor cocked a brow. “You sure you want to find out the hard way?”

She disappeared into the cabin, and he gave her a few seconds before sending the jet in an arcing dive toward the earth.

“What are you trying to do, get us killed?” Jake asked. “You know we can’t engage them.”

“You just asked me if I had any tricks.” Connor’s palms slicked against the power levers, but his brother was right. Connor drew in a long breath. “Relax. I just wanted to see what the Skyhawk would do.”

Connor leveled the Learjet, flying at thirty thousand feet. The Skyhawk stayed with them. If Connor didn’t follow, would they be shot out of the sky? He wanted to outmaneuver the fighter jet, but he reined in the crazy thought. Like Jake said, that could get them all killed. He had more than himself to worry about this time.

This time.

His pulse rocketed as images bombarded him.

He was flying now, somewhere over the Mojave Desert when both engines died. The ground came at him fast, the experimental test plane dropping to the earth way too fast. There wasn’t enough time. Seconds...he had seconds left, but they weren’t enough. He ejected later than he should have, and then he slammed against the earth.

“Connor...Connor!” Jake’s voice broke through the vision from his past.

Glancing at his brother, Connor drew in a breath. He’d spent months recuperating from his injuries after the crash, destroying the experimental plane he’d flown as a test pilot—another bird like this Learjet that cost in the millions.

Destroying his career and future.

Unlike the test plane, at least Connor had survived and all his body parts were in functioning order.

That was six months ago and it wasn’t long enough to minimize his trauma. Still, it was enough to keep him from making an extreme attempt to outmaneuver the fighter pilot to his left. Regardless, he was in no position to engage in a dogfight.

“Give me a minute to think,” he said.

“I’m not sure we’ve got a minute.”

“In order to intercept us like this they had to have departed farther down our route and watched for us from anywhere in the Yucatán Peninsula, Haiti or Cuba. Then climbed to the same altitude and flown in a holding pattern, waiting for us,” Connor said. “They had to know almost instantly that we’d taken this plane, and chosen this route.”

“But we’re too far into the Caribbean now and out of radar coverage,” Jake said.

Connor glanced Jake’s way. “GPS,” he said, simultaneously with his brother.

“So they installed GPS tracking, probably because they were afraid someone was going to take their plane.” Jake glared at Connor.

“As soon as we’re out of this, find the GPS device so we can’t be followed. Maybe it’s somewhere in the cockpit and easy to dismantle.”

“Who is this person, anyway?” Jake asked.

“Someone who wants this Learjet back,” Connor said. “Thought we’d already established that.”

“Just a guess, but seems to me we’ve picked a fight with someone who is powerful and dangerous.” Jake glanced behind him, but Maya remained in the cabin. “What should we do now, turn around?”

What had Connor gotten himself, gotten them, into? This was all too much and happening way too fast. “Are you kidding me? There’s no way I plan to turn this plane around.”

“Yes, I was kidding. But then again, what choice do we have?” Jake asked.

Connor couldn’t stand the defeat he heard in his brother’s voice. Incredulity raced through his veins, and he cut Jake a glance. “Like that’s any choice? They’d kill us on the spot. They kidnapped a woman, remember?”

When Troy had hired Connor to recover this Learjet, he told Connor that a reputable businessman had fallen behind on his payments and all Connor needed to do was fly the jet back.

You might want to consider using the element of surprise...

Troy’s words seemed to echo in the cockpit now. After everything that had happened, Connor understood the warning better, and he understood something else, as well—the man who had owned this Learjet was anything but reputable. Maya’s presence just upped the stakes, but maybe they could come out of this like heroes.

The fighter jet flew closer then thrust ahead of the Lear, flying in front of them in a dangerous pattern. Connor wasn’t impressed.

“Okay. I vote we call for help.” Jake emphasized the last three words. “Someone needs to know what’s going on.”

Connor shook his head, cautioning him.

“Like I said before, you get on the radio now and they might decide to destroy all the evidence.”

“They’re not going to shoot us out of the sky,” Maya said.

The sound of her smooth voice startled Connor. He hadn’t realized Maya had left her seat and now stood behind him. She knew more than she was admitting, just as he suspected. “How can you be sure?”

“I can’t. But I think the Learjet owner wants his plane back, and he won’t get that if he shoots it out of the sky.”

She didn’t make mention that he wanted her back, as well.

“They’re not going to follow us into U.S. airspace, either,” Connor said.

“There’s no need to. He already has people inside, and they’ll be waiting for us.”

The Skyhawk backed off and disappeared, and almost in unison, Connor and Jake released a long sigh. Connor looked over his shoulder. Maya had returned to the cabin.

“We need to change our passenger manifest before we land.” Connor stood to leave the cockpit.

Jake eyed him. “You’re full of bright ideas today. Just how do we do that midflight?”

“Figure it out and look for that GPS tracking device.” He didn’t have time for any of this. “I’m going to find out what Maya knows.”

Just who exactly were they dealing with? He swiped a hand down his face as he paused before stepping into the cabin, hardly believing what had happened. How could he get answers from Maya?

Reg would know how to do it. Connor grimaced. Why did he have to think about Reg right now? His older brother’s angry face filled his mind—the good son in the family with a successful career in the FBI. Connor didn’t want to think about Reg’s reaction should he find out what Connor had dragged Jake into.

He hadn’t spoken to his brother in two years. Always the failure, never the hero—Reg’s last words to him pounded against his already aching head. It didn’t look as though Connor was anywhere close to changing that, despite his efforts today.

He shoved his failures aside. He needed to remain focused and keep a positive outlook, but this little mission wasn’t looking nearly as advantageous as it had.

* * *

Maya searched the posh lavatory.

There...

Her pulse slowed a little. The men who’d taken her last night had crammed her bag into a small storage compartment. She still grappled with the fact that Roberto Hernandez had found her after over twenty years—and kidnapped her again. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to get her and because of that, she doubted she’d escape his claws this time. That fighter jet showed her just how determined he’d become.

But why now? What had happened to reignite his interest in her? She didn’t doubt that her father had everything to do with it. She dumped the contents of her purse, which seemed considerably lighter, on the counter. Lipstick, a small brush, mirror and breath mints spilled out.

But no wallet.

Her heart skipped an awkward rhythm. That meant no cash. No credit cards. No driver’s license. She dug inside the handwoven bamboo-and-satin bag. There. She felt something... Her hopes climbed.

Maya tugged out her passport. They’d taken her money but wanted her to be able to travel without raising questions. She stumbled from the lavatory, dropped into the rear seat, set her bag on the floor at her feet and pressed her passport against her chest.

Without this, she couldn’t even make it back into the country. She drew in a few calming breaths. If she could just walk off the plane, slide through customs and evade Roberto’s men somehow, then she’d have a chance to consider her next step.

Without her passport, avoiding more trouble would be impossible.

Still, she was reduced to walking through this crisis moment by moment, one day at a time. Everything hinged on what the pilot intended to do with her. She’d been kidnapped and stowed away on his plane. Yes. But he wasn’t involved with Roberto. That much she believed. Now to convince him to let her be.

She needed to handle this in her own way. She couldn’t lose control of her life again. How could she make him understand?

Maya stared out the window at the Caribbean Sea passing beneath them. Soon it would change to the Gulf of Mexico as they traveled to Miami on what had to be a ninety-minute, maybe two-hour, flight.

She had an hour, if that, to figure things out. How much could she share with him and still hold on to what little of her life was left?

She only had herself to blame for the mess she was left with—she should never have agreed to meet her father.

One wrong decision and everything she’d worked for slipped from her grasp. How would she survive this? Even if she did survive, how would she escape and return unscathed, live the life she’d created without anyone being the wiser?

The pilot would want answers. She needed to tell him enough so he would understand how important it was to avoid contacting the authorities, and yet keep her identity and her life as secret as possible.

No one knew better than her, no one would understand that only she could solve this problem. Only she could connect with her father—for real this time—to discover why this man kidnapped her again. To discover what it would take to end this once and for all.

For twenty-plus years, she had deluded herself into believing she’d escaped Roberto for good. Roberto and her father were bitter rivals, and their feud could easily be taken right out of the headlines as they’d battled over territories for decades. He wanted to use her against her father, and the authorities would do the same if they discovered who she was. Her life would never be her own.