Chapter 5 #2
They stared at each other, both lying, both knowing it, but neither willing to break first. The rain drummed overhead, filling the silence with chaos. Water dripped from the ceiling, pooling at their feet, soaking into their clothes.
“All right,” Levi said finally. “How about this? We both keep our secrets for now. Focus on the immediate problem.”
She cocked her head and asked, “Which is?”
“Staying alive, fixing that plane, getting close enough to Morales to complete our respective missions.”
“And when those missions conflict?”
His smile was all teeth. “We improvise.”
She should walk away. Should contact Reeves, get extraction, let someone else deal with this operative and his demolitions.
But she wasn’t going to do that. She was drawn to this man. His skills, his equipment, his particular brand of controlled chaos made him the most interesting thing she’d seen in a very long time.
“Deal,” she said, extending her hand.
He took it, grip firm despite his exhaustion. His palm was hot against hers. Damn, that fever was definitely setting in. He'd need antibiotics soon, as well as real medical care. But for now, this would have to do.
“Partners,” Levi said.
“Liars and partners,” Willow corrected.
“That makes the best kind of partners.”
The guards were moving now, one walking toward them with purpose. Willow released Levi's hand, shifted into neutral body language, which was basically tired, cooperative, and unthreatening.
The guard stopped a few feet away, rain dripping from his jacket. “Time's up. You need to leave.”
“We're not going anywhere in this storm,” Willow said, letting exhaustion show. “The plane's damaged. We need to wait until morning, assess the repairs, and then make them. Like I said, I paid the cartel this month.”
“Not my problem.”
“It will be if we crash trying to take off in this weather, and your boss finds out you sent us into a storm. Who will feed his men then?” She held his gaze, steady. “We'll be gone when I get the plane fixed.”
The guard's eyes flicked between them—calculating, measuring threat levels. Finally, he shrugged. “Not a minute later.”
“Understood.”
He walked away, back to his partner and their cigarettes. The storm raged on, turning the world beyond the hangar into a wall of water and darkness.
Willow pulled out a protein bar from her pocket, split it in half, and handed one piece to Levi. “Eat. You need the calories.”
He took it, their fingers brushing. “You always this bossy?”
“You haven't seen bossy yet.”
“Looking forward to seeing what you consider bossy, love.” He bit into the bar, chewing mechanically. After a moment, he said, “The old plane. The Beaver. You really think we can fix it?”
She looked across the hangar at the tarp-covered shape. In the lightning flashes, she could see glimpses of it. The curved fuselage, single propeller, the bones of something that had once been beautiful.
“Maybe,” she said. “If we're lucky. If we're smart. If neither of us dies first.”
“See, there I knew it. You’re an optimist.”
“Realist.” She finished her half of the bar, tasting nothing. “We'll need parts. Tools. Time we probably don't have.”
“What about the cartel? They've got machine shops, right? Maintenance facilities for their own planes?”
“Yeah, heavily guarded facilities.”
His grin returned. It was almost like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. “So, we borrow what we need.”
“You mean steal.”
“Borrow. Steal. Semantics.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “We blow something up as a distraction, you grab the parts, and we're gone before anyone notices.”
“That's your solution to everything, isn't it? Blow something up.”
“It's worked so far.”
Despite everything… the danger, the lies, the impossible mission, Willow felt herself smile. Actually smile. “You're insane.”
“So you've mentioned.” He cracked one eye open. “But I'm also right.”
She couldn't argue with that.
The rain continued, endless and deafening. Water spread across the hangar floor, reflecting lightning in jagged patterns. Somewhere in the distance, howler monkeys screamed their territorial claims, and the jungle pressed in close.
Willow leaned back against the wall beside Levi, their shoulders almost touching. Heat radiated from him.
“Tell me something true,” she said quietly.
He was silent for so long she thought he'd fallen asleep. Then, “I really do enjoy control. Everything else is just noise.”
It matched what he'd said earlier, and it felt true. Honest in a way nothing else between them had been.
“My turn,” he said. “You tell me something true.”
She thought about it. She searched her mind about all the truths she couldn't tell, the secrets that defined her, the mission that would eventually put them on opposite sides.
“I'm tired,” she said finally. “So damn tired of flying alone, of working alone.”
His hand found hers in the darkness—a brief squeeze, there and gone. Understanding without words.
They sat in silence, two liars and one truth between them, while the storm tried to tear the world apart.