Chapter 14 #2
“Roma,” Gio demanded again, angry. The murderer wanted to go home. He surveyed the rest of the vacant landing strip, maybe examining if his gunshots had attracted any attention, but the place was deserted. “Roma.”
“Jesus, give her a second,” Ethan said, then repeated what I assumed was the same thing in Italian. He hadn’t lowered his threatening gun.
“Are you going to kill him?” a voice asked. It had to have come from me, but it sounded alien, unrecognizable.
He spoke through clenched teeth. “I. Can’t.”
“Do you know how to fly?”
His aim on our boss didn’t waver. “No.”
It was difficult climbing up onto my shaky legs. Everything around me was shifting and unstable, made worse when Gio stalked over to me. He reached out with one hand to help me up, but kept the gun trained on me in his other.
“Tell him he can’t kill me, at least not until we land.” A nervous, inappropriate laugh burst from me and died as quickly as it had come on.
Those dark eyes I’d once found so intriguing flooded with concern. “I’ve warned him.”
Gio’s sharp grip on my elbow was biting, and I tried unsuccessfully to shake it off as he tucked his gun into the front waistband of his pants.
“Andiamo.” Gio gestured to the bodies, his evil sneer directed at Ethan. Hurry up.
I simply watched as he lumbered to load them into the hold of the plane, unable to stop him. I’d thought about going for Gio’s gun and trying to kill him myself, but I got the impression Ethan wouldn’t allow that. No, he’d stop me before it happened.
And if I were somehow successful, what then? Vitale would find me, and he’d make me wish I’d been the dead pilot Ethan had just placed in the hold.
When it was done, I went up the steps, sandwiched between the two men, and then had to explain to Ethan how to retract the stairs and latch the door shut. My shuddering hands wouldn’t allow me to do it myself.
He followed me into the cockpit, telling me the door had to remain open.
“I need your help,” he said quietly. “There’s too much at play here. I have to get him back to Rome in one piece.”
“There are bodies on my plane.”
“I know,” he said, full of regret, “but you can do this. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” I lifted my gaze to meet his, and his expression dimmed. “I won’t let anything else happen to you,” he amended.
I stood behind my chair, my hand on the back of the seat to help keep me steady as I considered his statement.
“I know you’ve got emergency signals,” he continued, “and distress calls you can put out that’ll bring the authorities here.” He took a deep breath. “I’m asking you not to use them. We can get through this. Please, I need you to trust me.”
Trust him?
I barely knew him, other than he pretended to be someone else.
The threat of what would happen if I disobeyed was what drove me into the seat, not trust. As I put on the headset and evaluated the instrumentation, he hovered behind me like he was uncomfortable or unwilling to sit in the copilot’s seat.
Was it a sign of respect, or was he watching to make sure I didn’t try anything?
Having the yoke in my hands calmed me to a level where I could focus, and I clung to the idea that I was in control of the situation, even when it was a tailspin I couldn’t correct.
I radioed the tower and got clearance for takeoff. My body went through all the motions, and when the nose was pointed down the runway, I turned to glare up at him.
“Sit down. We’re taking off.”
He did so, reluctantly. “Do you need me to do something?”
“No. Do nothing. You’re good at that.” The bitter words burned on my tongue and seemed to sting him as intended. My anger was all over the place. Gio was the one who’d killed my crew, my friends, but . . . Ethan hadn’t done a thing to stop him. Now I was the only survivor of my team.
Again.
Not only was he exceptionally quiet during takeoff, he also didn’t move a muscle. Like his body had gone into some sort of suspended state. As we climbed toward cruising altitude, I glanced at him. He looked determined. Collected.
It only made me angrier.
I leveled off, engaged the autopilot, and pushed the yoke free. Fire stung in my eyes as I looked at him, demanding he speak.
“I did everything I could to try to save them,” he said. “I was trying to save you.” His eyebrows pulled together, and his expression was full of remorse. “He’s unpredictable, and I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Unpredictable?” I said, my voice raised. “People are dead because of your mistake.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who put their goddamn bodies on the plane.”
Gio’s voice came through the open door, asking something, and Ethan growled out a response. Footsteps approached.
“No,” I said, my pulse racing. I couldn’t have the murderous piece of shit enter the only sanctuary I had left, shattering the illusion of safety and control I clung to. “Tell him to stay out of my cockpit.”
Ethan said something, and the footsteps stopped. The heavy, quick breathing said Gio lingered just outside the doorway. There was a terse conversation between the men.
“We’ve discussed how to handle the situation of landing in Rome. He’ll have someone at the airport make sure the officials stay away.”
I balled my fists, and my nails bit into my palms. My emotions threatened to tear me apart, but the footsteps faded as Gio returned to his seat.
This couldn’t be happening. I wouldn’t allow this to happen. I had to do something.
Maybe I could get the drug from Ethan and slip it into Gio’s drink. If he was unconscious, that would be—
Wait a minute.
I didn’t need a drug to achieve that.
My O2 mask would fall from the portside overhead compartment, and oxygen flowed longer to the pilots’ masks. All I had to do was switch off the airflow valve from Engine One and wait for the air to thin enough to make the masks drop.
Either Gio would ignore the mask and lose consciousness quickly, or he’d take it and stay locked in his chair until his supply ran out. The chemical generator had ten minutes at the most for passengers, considerably more for the cockpit.
I’d get him on the ground in one piece as requested. Ethan hadn’t said shit about Gio’s brain being damaged by hypoxia. I eyed the airflow switch, hesitant, but Ethan interrupted my thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?”
He didn’t seem like the type, but a lot of people panicked when oxygen masks appeared. I had to hope the large man beside me would remain calm. Fifteen minutes at the most, then I’d switch the airflow back on, or drop below ten thousand feet.
“I’m thinking about what’s going to happen to us after we land,” I lied.
It took a tremendous effort to casually reach forward and toggle the switch to off and confirm the decision when the warning alert sounded. I checked the gauges and pretended this was all normal, as if I wasn’t about to cut off the oxygen supply in the cabin.
My heart raced and blood roared in my ears louder than the constant hum of engines. The sound of the cooling fan slowing was subtle, and even if Ethan noticed, he probably wouldn’t think anything of it.
Outwardly, I remained composed, but inside, panic poured into my stomach.
Did he know I’d just become the most dangerous thing on my plane?
As Gio’s brain was starved of oxygen, he’d become disoriented.
Perhaps his speech would slur and he’d speak nonsense, although I wouldn’t understand either way.
Maybe he’d experience euphoria, as some people reported they did, but—God, I hoped not. He didn’t deserve it.
All I wanted was the loss of consciousness the hypoxia was likely to bring.
Ethan scrutinized me when I turned to him, but I kept my face blank.
“Let me worry about what to do when we land,” he said. “Maybe you don’t trust me, but you need to listen to me. If I tell you to be quiet, that means you stay absolutely silent. Understand?”
His voice was harsh, and I got the sense he was overcompensating. Trying to take command of an uncontrollable situation. I didn’t give him any response.
“Do as I say,” he said, “and I can get you out of this. You were in the military, so I know you can follow orders.”
My lips parted to suck in a breath, and I suddenly couldn’t wait to see him panic when the warning alarm sounded and the plastic bags and tubing sprang from the compartments. It couldn’t come soon enough.
“You don’t know a thing about me,” I said.
It was a lie. He knew plenty about me, and he probably saw right through the front I was so careful to put up. It took a bull-shitter to know one.
It was dark outside, and the lights were dim in the small space I shared with this man I’d slept with. That felt like a lifetime ago. How upset was he going to be with me when he realized what I’d done? And why did I care?
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know anything about you.”
He lapsed into silence, but I could feel his intense gaze on me, and unexpectedly, his breathing picked up. Like he was nervous about whatever he was going to say.
“I know that I need you to get through this,” he said.
The uneven cadence of his voice was shocking, pulling my gaze to him like he had gravity. His face had changed, taking on the same look of longing he’d given me right after our encounter in the bathroom this afternoon. My heart thudded.
“Why?”
His voice was low. “Because maybe when this is over, we could—”
A loud horn blared, cut off, and then rang again in a steady pattern, and the dread that filled his face was devastating.