35. Scottie
SCOTTIE
“Would you get your feet off the controls?” I griped at Max.
The fucker was lounging back in the co-pilot’s seat, drinking directly from the bottle. Hell, I could smell the alcohol wafting off him from here. I wanted to pull that straw hat down on top of his head and slap that cigar out of his mouth. How the hell did Christa put up with him?
“Is there a reason you felt the need to bring the whole fucking bottle of scotch?”
He took a long swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes.”
“And that would be?”
“I didn’t want to vomit on the flight,” he shrugged. “See, you may not have a problem vomiting mid-air, but I most definitely do. I prefer to be drunk over a complete fucking wreck.”
I rolled my eyes, checking my controls one last time.
We were sitting ducks out here at the Ass End of Nowhere, Russia.
But we couldn’t leave until Cash got his ass over here and we flew him home.
The whole plan depended on him being in the United States when everything went down.
Otherwise, it wasn’t a sure thing that we would clear his name.
And even then, there was a possibility he could get thrown in Guantanamo Bay.
“Put out the cigar,” I snapped, my anger rising by the second. I wasn’t sure what was getting to me more, but the whole persona he had going on really grated on my nerves. Just once, I wanted things to go smoothly, and it felt like a fucking omen, having him on this trip with all that alcohol.
“Geez, you are so cranky today. You know what you need?”
“For you to get the fuck off this plane.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a good lay or?—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
“Like I said. Uptight. You know, you never used to be this way.” He tipped his hat back, showing me his eyes. “When I first arrived, I’d say you were a lot more loose. What the fuck happened?”
I slowly turned my gaze toward him, shooting daggers with my eyes. “Do you really need to ask that?”
His blunt nails scratched his beard slowly. “Well, I’m thinking that’s a yes since I asked.”
Fucking unbelievable. “Our boss is on the run, we’re in fucking Russia, my co-pilot is drunk off his ass…Do I really need to say more?”
He shrugged noncommittally.
I scoffed, turning my attention back to the runway. And thankfully, our package had arrived. With this trip, I was lucky enough to have a bigger plane, which meant a door between the cockpit and the back of the plane.
No more distractions. No risk of anyone coming up here and touching buttons or pulling levers. I would finally be free to shut out the world and do things the way they should be done.
Well, if only I had a real co-pilot.
“They’re here,” I snapped, grabbing his attention momentarily.
He tipped his hat up again, peeking out the window. “So they are.”
I rolled my eyes. It was like he didn’t even care. “Look, do me a favor and just forget that you’re up here.”
“Kind of hard to do my job like that.”
“Like you’re really doing a job anyway. Let’s face it. You’re drunk and won’t be of any use.”
“You know, I resent that. I do some of my best work when I’m drunk.”
“Not today, you’re not. I will not end up in the ocean, freezing my ass off, because you decide to take the controls.”
“But—”
“No!” I said firmly. “Just sit there like the good little boy I know you can be. Smoke your cigar and pretend you’re on the beach somewhere.”
“But—”
“I’m not arguing with you about this!” I could feel my temper rising, but this job was too important to fuck up. “Not a word. I don’t want to hear a peep out of your mouth. Am I understood?”
He rolled his eyes, miming zipping his lips.
“Thank you.”
I marched into the back, greeting our guests as they arrived. Not that my teammates were guests, but when in a foreign country…
“It’s about time you guys arrived.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” IRIS grunted sarcastically. “You know, traveling across the frozen tundra and all.”
“Whatever. One more minute here and I might have shot Max.”
“Why? What did he do this time?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, motioning them all to sit down.
Cash looked a little worse for wear as he climbed the steps. Bruises covered his face and he limped slowly, grunting to me as he passed. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Any time. Although I’m not sure our plan will be as effective in the state you’re in.”
“I’ll be fine.” He gripped my shoulder gently, showing just how fucked up he was. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah, you too,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but wonder if he was in any condition to do this. He looked like shit, but with a sharp look from Eva, I kept my trap shut. “Ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Knight nudged her ahead. “Just get us to the drop zone. We’ll handle the rest.”
I saluted him, rolling my eyes at his cool demeanor. When they were all in, I raised the stairs and secured the door. With any luck, this would be the easiest job I’d been on in a while.
If I was lucky.
After securing my own door and checking everything one last time, I pointed us toward the makeshift runway and picked up speed.
The flight would be short, less than an hour, but the difficult part was making sure I got them to the drop zone in the window provided where the rest of the team would be waiting.
From there, they would split up, taking different routes to finish off the four men who this whole fucking war hinged upon.
No big deal.
We were in the air for a little over half an hour when I started to get that sick feeling twisting in my gut. It had to be something I ate. After all, we weren’t even in danger. Everything was completely fine.
Yet…
My stomach rumbled dangerously and I leaned forward, trying to push down the threat bubbling inside. When that didn’t quell the need to vomit, I knew what I had to do.
“Max.”
He didn’t respond.
“Max, I need you.”
Again, he didn’t say a word.
“Fucking hell. Max!”
He tipped his hat slightly. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Take the controls.”
“Oh, no,” he chuckled. “No can do. I’ve been relegated to my chair, with strict instructions not to touch a thing.”
“Forget what I said. I need the head.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“Well, perhaps you should have thought about it before you told me to sit here like a good little boy and…what was it? Pretend I’m on a beach somewhere?”
He pulled his hat back down and ignored me.
The churning in my stomach grew insistent. Fuck, this was bad. I put the plane on autopilot, hoping this wouldn’t take long. I was in the bathroom just moments later, spewing my guts.
Holy shit. This hadn’t happened in a long fucking time. What the fuck was wrong?
I didn’t have time to figure it out right now. I had a plane to fly. I headed back to the cockpit and just closed the door when something wrapped around my neck and was yanked back.
I tried to suck in air, but couldn’t do a damn thing as a taser was shoved into my side, zapping me with what felt like fifty thousand volts. My body wriggled, fighting for control as whatever was around my neck tightened.
I was losing hard, barely still awake, but had the forethought to use what little strength I had left to slam my elbow back into the fucker holding me.
Air rushed into my lungs momentarily and I escaped just long enough to cry out for my co-pilot. “Max!”
My air was cut off again, but I fought to get to the controls.
The drop zone was coming up and I had to get us low enough to drop them.
Otherwise, we were all fucked. I slammed my hand back again, the taser clattering to the ground.
I kicked it out of the way, getting my fingers under the rope around my neck enough to let me breathe.
“Max,” I gasped.
“Nope,” he grunted. “Not doing it. You wanted to fly alone. You got it.”
I wheezed, beckoning air to move into my lungs. I flung myself forward, jerking my head, while also cutting off my air supply, and then knocked my head back, right into the man behind me.
I sucked in a large gulp of air and quickly headed to the controls, beginning our descent. “Max, help,” I croaked, barely getting the words out around the way that fucker fucked up my throat.
“I hear you talking, but I’m not listening,” he chuckled, his hat still pulled low. “All I hear are beach waves and Jimmy Buffett.”
That fucker was going to get us all killed, but I didn’t have time to think of that when I was busy fighting off the man in here and trying to get us to the drop zone safely.
The man rushed me, his hand hitting the controls.
The nose of the plane rose suddenly, raising a loud cacophony of shouts from the back of the plane.
I scrambled to right the plane while also fighting off every attack he threw at me.
I was dodging his fists while also taking multiple hits, then doing everything I could to get us level.
“Max!” I shouted just before the man grabbed me by the arm and spun me around, shoving me face-first into the controls. The plane dipped and we headed straight for the ground, the alarms blaring as we descended at an uncontrolled rate.
Max grunted in amusement. “Bet you wish you had asked for my help now,” he muttered.
“Max,” I gasped, flinging my elbow back, praying I connected with the asshole behind me.
I was pinned with no fucking way out. The rate at which we were falling would smash us like a pancake into the ground. There would be no survivors. I would never see Quinn again.
That thought alone sent nausea swirling in my stomach at a violent speed. I was going to be sick.
I threw back my elbow, this time connecting with something. The man stumbled back a step, allowing me enough time to spin around and land one hell of a punch to his jaw. He fell to the ground just as I spewed vomit all over him.
He cried out in disgust just as Max finally lifted his hat and eyed the man on the ground. “Hey, tactical vomit has returned.” He grinned up at me, then grabbed his bottle. “Scotch?”
I slid my fingers through the man’s hair and slammed his head against the wall, knocking him out. Then grabbed the bottle from Max and took a swig.
“See? It’s better when you drink.”
I slumped into my seat, still breathing hard as I finally leveled the plane, ignoring the banging on the door. When I was close to our destination, I finally unlocked the door, taking another swig of scotch as Thumper burst inside.
“What the fuck?—”
His eyes dropped to the man on the floor. He pinched his nose and then took in the sight of me drinking and flying. “Fucking hell. Boss, we have a problem!”
“What’s that?” Cash asked, peeking his head inside. “You’re drinking and flying?” he snapped.
Thumper smacked him on the shoulder, pointing to the ground. “Tactical vomit is back.”
“There’s a man on the floor,” Cash pointed out. “Do you think that might be a problem?”
Thumper eyed the man and frowned. “Well, not anymore.”
He turned, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a fucking man in the cockpit who shouldn’t be there,” he stressed.
“Yeah, I see him, too,” Thumper said slowly. “I think the bigger issue is the tactical vomit.”
“How is that an issue?”
“Well, the man is knocked out. But now we have to figure out how to insure our planes when both of them are drinking on the job and one of them is vomiting all over the controls.”
Cash looked at me again, his eyes locked on the bottle. “Is this gonna be a problem?”
I took another swig. “Nope.”
Cash studied me for a moment. “Well, alright then.” He turned and shouted to everyone else. “Time to jump!”
“See?” Max grinned. “I told you it wasn’t a problem.”