Sneak Peek at Passive Attack #2
“The area’s prone to flooding, but the weather looks flat for today. Reese will keep you updated.”
I glance sidelong as we walk. “Comms?”
“Spotty. No cell once you’re out there. Reese’ll keep the sat link up.”
Reese appears with a checklist tucked under one arm. “Just need to finish the walk-around and we’re all set. You seen Jake?”
“Not seen him since he walked the perimeter last night,” I say.
Caleb jerks his thumb toward the women’s barracks. “My guess is he’s giving her the hurry-up. He’s been itching to co-pilot since we borrowed this thing.”
Reese nods. “Yeah, probably. I’m not waiting for him. I’ll finish the preflight and we’re wheels up.”
He disappears into the Pilatus PC-24 just as I catch Caleb eyeing the sidearm strapped to my leg.
He lifts his chin. “What else you carrying?”
“Standard kit. Two spare mags. ”
His forehead creases, like he’s decided I’m going in too light.
Sure enough, he reaches into his thigh pocket and pulls out a .22 revolver. “Just in case Dee wants to shoot a few cans before you leave.”
Doubtful. But I take the gun anyway and extend my hand. Caleb ignores it, and jerks me forward and slaps me on the back, makin’ me wince. “Be safe, brother,” he says.
“Just keep prayin’ on,” I say.
He bobs his head, and swoops down to grab my bag. “You’re gonna be her favorite after this.”
I follow him up the steps, duckin’ my head, and grittin’ my teeth at my awkward gait. “Naw. We all know you hold that title.”
I follow Caleb into the jet. Whistlin’ low at the cream leather seats, two on each side. Enough aisle to move without turning sideways. Wood trim polished to a shine I wouldn’t want to keep clean.
Sunlight through oval windows. Smells like leather and fuel. Fast bird. Built for getting places quick.
I take my bag from Caleb’s outstretched hands and pick a seat in the back to stow it.
With a final reminder that we need to be home before dark, Caleb leans into the flight deck, fires off a bad joke to Reese, and heads out.
To fill in the time while we wait for Delilah and Jake, I recheck the map, use Jericho’s secure WiFi to confir m the weather report, and run through the gear list one more time.
A burst of laughter from outside makes my eyes narrow. Jake. Finally decided to put in an appearance.
Wearin’ Hightower black, shades, and strolling toward the jet like this is his personal runway.
My eyes don’t leave him as he climbs the stairs with ease and smugly walks past me to stow Delilah’s expensive gear.
“You’re late,” I say.
“ Someone had to help carry her gear, hop-a-long, Cassidy.”
My gut tightens. He’s baitin’ me. It should roll off by now. It don’t.
“A fool's lips walk into a fight, and his mouth invites a beating,” I mutter.
The side of his mouth twists, but he gives me his signature “whatever” look before joining Reese.
I lean my head back on the rest, and chastise myself for throwing scripture at him. Not his fault I have a busted leg.
I whisper a hasty prayer, for strength, for forgiveness, and for the good Lord to help me get through the day without lettin’ anyone see.
The sight of Delilah steppin’ on board, laptop in her hands, instantly narrows my focus. My breath locks tight in my chest.
Her hair is loose, set in waves. A white cardigan is draped across her shoulders. She’s picked the knee length powder blue dress with daisies—the one she stayed up half the night biddin’ on three months ago. Nipped at the waist, flarin’ just enough to catch the breeze.
But it’s her strappy sandals with a corked heel that have me scratching my head.
No way Silas okayed them.
Her eyes shift to where I’m sitting. She flashes me a smile so sweet it hits like a jolt to the sternum.
For a second, I forget about Jake’s cockiness and remember why Silas chose me. “Gonna need to change your shoes.”
Her brow creases as she looks down at her shiny red toenails. “What’s wrong with these?”
Oh, darlin.
“Nuthin’ if you’re at a tea party. We’re going into Rattlesnake country. Bright colors attract em’.”
Her face falls. “But we’ll only be in the bank office.”
I spread my hands on my thighs. Doesn’t do much to stop me wishing I could give her what she wants.
“Still not worth the risk. Snake tags you out there, you’re in trouble before we can get you to help.”
She clutches the lace edging at her collar, blue eyes wide and a little color draining from her face. “Silas didn’t mention that. ”
From the cockpit, Reese calls out: “Wheels up in five.”
Delilah’s mouth presses downward. “My feet are going to get hot.”
I fix her with a look. As much as I want to indulge her, I can’t. Pretty toes or not. “They’ll have A/C.”
Her shoulders sag, but she doesn’t protest, but she glances at the bag Jake stowed in the overhead. “Can I at least wear them on the plane?”
I open my mouth to tell her about safety, about regulations, about dressin’ for a crash landin’, but when Jake appears to secure the door, I got nuthin’.
Them laughin’ together is still echoin’ in my eardrums.
“Change before we land,” I say.
She sighs, places her laptop in the locker opposite me, and takes the seat across the aisle and buckles up.
Reese eases the throttles forward, and the engines whine loud. In seconds, we’re rollin’ down the blacktop strip that cuts through the edge of the ranch, wheels thumping over seams in the pavement.
I glance over at Delilah who’s grinnin’ like a kid on a field trip as we pick up speed. “This is so flippin’ epic, Zack!”
Grinnin’ back at her, we rocket down the narrow strip, the fences on either side blurrin’ into streaks, the horizon pullin’ us in like it’s got a claim on us.
The blacktop shudders under the wheels, then smooth s as Reese coaxes more speed—eighty, a hundred, one-ten—and the nose comes up.
Jericho drops away so fast it’s like someone yanked the world out from under us—barn, barracks, homestead, corrals, the silver flash of the river—all swallowed by the endless spread of North Dakota prairie as the sky takes us whole.
Reese levels her out quick, smooth hands on the yoke, and a soft chime cuts through the cabin as the seat belt light clicks off.
Across the aisle, Delilah blows out a breath and gets to her feet. All five feet six coiffed inches of them. Five feet seven if you count the heels.
I pull out my tablet and start jot-tin’ down details on the job—names, locations, anythin’ I don’t want rattlin’ loose in my head.
Somethin’ whizzes past my fingers and lands on the seat beside me—a neon Gummy Snake.
I cut my eyes toward Delilah. She’s grinnin’ like she just pulled off a bank heist.
“Snakes on a plane,” she says, then cracks herself up.
I can’t help it—I chuckle, pick up the snake, and bite its head clean off.
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