Chapter 15
ETHAN
I watched Olivia’s focus snap back to the controls. She’d barely seemed surprised when the alarm had sounded, but it had startled the hell out of me. I’d never been all that comfortable with flying, and I had to steel myself now to remain calm.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re losing pressure.” She snapped up the steering column, and there was a flurry of activity. Another alarm sounded and was silenced when she stabbed a button in the center between us.
“Why are we losing pressure?”
“We must have a leak.”
The answer came far too quick and tight. Everything inside me was already on alert, but this set me even more on edge. What was her play here? To claim a malfunction and try to force Gio into jumping with a parachute?
She’d so obviously been planning something since our boss returned to his seat. Her whole body had gone rigid, and she’d been carefully measuring out her breath so as not to seem anxious. She’d failed miserably.
“What’s going on?” Gio yelled, storming up to the cockpit.
“Turbulence,” I lied. “Go back to your seat and buckle in.”
The piece of shit muttered a curse and plodded to his chair in the back, thankfully as far away from her as possible.
I’d almost killed him on the tarmac. The moment I’d heard the gunshots, I’d been seized with panic that Olivia was dead. Instead, he had the gun on her, and my brain quit working.
Relief she was alive mixed with rage over what Gio had done. This unexpected rush of emotion had stopped my impulse to sink a bullet into him—which was good. With the rest of the crew dead, I had no choice but to let it play out.
If I’d killed him when I had wanted to, I might have gotten a little justice for the dead men beneath us on the plane, but what about my mission? What about the deal in the works with the terrorist cell? With both his sons dead, Vitale would be impossible to break.
That is, of course, if Olivia didn’t kill us first with whatever scheme she was working on. I admired the fight in her, but she had the worst fucking timing. I had hoped she would trust me, but that answer was clearly no.
“Can you fix it?” I asked, apprehensive of the lie I knew was coming.
“We’ll be okay. It’s a slow leak.” But she sounded out of breath, and I noticed it was difficult for me to catch mine as well.
The alarm that signified she’d put her plan into action rang again, only this time it was serious.
She didn’t get a chance to shut it off. The compartments above our heads burst open, and oxygen masks rained down.
I pushed aside panic and snatched up the dangling orange cup, fumbling with the elastic straps. She’d moved with planned efficiency, and had her mask secure a heartbeat after they’d fallen from the compartments.
Gio yelled something, but it was muffled as he must have put on his own mask.
“Stop this,” I ordered her. “Whatever you’ve done, fix it now.”
Her traitorous gaze darted from the gauges to lock onto me. She pulled the cup of her mask half an inch away so she could speak. “You think I made this happen?”
“Yes.” Not a shred of doubt.
She glanced away, guilty. “I didn’t.”
I grabbed her elbow, hard. I didn’t have time to talk sense into her, even if I could get her to listen to it.
Her eyes widened with startled pain at my grip.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, but, goddamn it .
. . we were wearing oxygen masks and sirens wailed overhead. Was the plan to kill us all?
“Now,” I commanded.
“No.”
Cold wrapped its fingers around me as she pushed us closer to where I didn’t want to go. I played the last card I had left before the mission directive would take over. “Olivia, please.”
Again, she pulled the mask away from her face. “He’ll run out of oxygen before we do. Just wait a few more minutes.”
Only then she’d correct whatever she’d done to depressurize the plane.
I knew all too well what a dangerous game she was playing. Knocking someone out by depriving them of oxygen was risky. If Gio went too long, any chance of the CIA gathering intelligence on the terrorist cell would die with him.
Goddamnit. I’d come too far to turn back.
I dug in my pocket and pulled out the knife, flipping the blade open. She was smart enough to know I couldn’t threaten her life. But I could make the empty threat of harm and try to intimidate her. Her knuckles went white on the wheel as she eyed the sharp blade.
“Fix it,” I half-ordered, half-pleaded, and set the edge against her forearm.
She looked down at the blade pressed against her skin, the steel flashing with each warning light above her head. “I will soon, I promise.”
How long did Gio have? What if the asshole had taken his mask off—
I released her, pulled the knife away, and stood. Don’t think about how stupid this is. Just get it over with.
“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.
I took a deep breath, yanked at the clear tubing that was connected to my oxygen bag, and wrapped it around the blade, showing her what was about to happen. Only the constant, repetitive warning alarm blared from the panel before she reacted.
“No!” She reached up to try to stop me, but it was too late.
I sliced easily through the rubber, severing my lifeline, and tore the mask off my face, throwing it across the cockpit in pure frustration.
I fell back into the seat, so angry that she’d forced me into this.
Now she’d have to choose which was more important, exacting her revenge on Gio, or letting me continue to breathe.
It was a huge gamble and, shit, I’d never been so worried about guessing wrong.
But Olivia . . . I’d kissed her, I’d slept with her, I’d told her my real name. I had done things with her I wasn’t allowed to while on an op. She meant something to me, and I was banking on her feelings being similar. I hoped.
“You stupid asshole! Why?” she yelled. I opened my mouth to say something, but she shook her head. “Don’t say a thing, save your air.”
She leaned over, flipped a switch, and shut off the warning, although the light continued to blink like a sickening strobe.
She tried to take off her mask, looking intent on sharing with me, but now it was my turn to shake my head. No one could afford for her to pass out. Her horrified expression was unsettling, so I stared out at the blackness beyond the windshield.
Well, what now?
Should I continue to sit beside her as my lungs began to demand air? I could stumble down the cabin aisle and grab one of the free masks hanging there, but if I left her, she’d shut and lock the cockpit door. I couldn’t trust her. And I wouldn’t be able to keep her safe either.
Ironic that I still wanted to protect her, even as my body screamed inside.
It was the lack of oxygen; that had to be the cause.
My hand closed around Olivia’s, and I tangled my fingers with hers like a goddamn high school boyfriend.
I clung to her, seemingly the only thing keeping me present in the moment, and when I was no longer moderately concerned I was going to die, I’d try to examine this action more clearly.
“Pressure’s climbing,” she said, squeezing my hand. My head was full of cement, and my neck was slow to respond when I wanted to look at her. “It’s coming up, just hang on.”
She blurred until I could no longer see and the pounding in my head crushed me with every thud. Okay, the pressure was coming up, but where was the fucking air? Something warm and soft brushed my cheek and I lolled my head into it.
“Ethan,” the lyrical voice whispered.
I blinked. The cockpit sharpened slowly back into focus. Olivia’s oxygen mask was gone, and her lips were beside my ear, whispering my name a second time so softly I thought maybe I had died.
She drew back, appearing concerned. “Are you all right?”
How long had I been out? She was gripping the yellow oxygen mask in her lap, so hopefully it had been momentary. I considered her question. The pounding in my head had dulled but persisted, and I was queasy. Yet I felt steady enough.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Her expression went cold. “Then get the fuck out of my cockpit.”
The pocketknife was still in my hand, so I shifted in the seat and leaned over her, bringing the knife up.
She gasped, cowering beneath me. She feared punishment, but I hadn’t raised the knife for any other reason than to cut down her oxygen mask.
Gripping the rubber tubing, I tugged it free from her and flung it away.
“That’s the last idea you have, do you understand?” I muttered. “I’m the one in charge.”
It was amazing how quickly she could slip from fear back into anger. There was pure contempt in her eyes. “I could have killed you.”
“And, what? You think I’m not capable of killing?” It came out sneering, and I felt ugly inside. She broke the gaze and stared at her hands on the steering wheel.
“Just go, please.” It was shaky. Her weary shoulders sagged. Exhaustion was overwhelming her.
I swallowed hard. “You know I can’t.”
A noise broke free from her, a frustrated sigh. Her fingers went to her neck, and she yanked the red scarf loose, undoing the button of her collar. “I want to know why.”
“You left me no choice.”
“No, I want to know why he’s so important that you’re okay with other people dying for him, including yourself.”
Part of me wanted to tell her the truth. She already knew more about me than almost anyone else in the world, so why not? She knew where I was from, my real name, some of the places I’d run ops. She also knew I’d killed Constantine Abramo, which was something I’d shared with barely anyone else.
Yet I was pissed with her and my head ached, and that made me refuse to give her what she wanted. “I’ll get you out. After that, I don’t owe you anything.”
She scowled. “No, you sure don’t.”
This time when her gaze returned forward, I knew I wouldn’t get it back on me. I wanted to slam my fist into the dashboard. This was a complicated mess, and if I didn’t lock it down, we were both going to wind up dead.
“Nathan, what is happening?” Gio’s annoying voice carried up the hallway.
I scrubbed my face with a palm. “A malfunction in the air system. She’s fixed it.” I glanced over at the cut oxygen masks. “But keep your mask on until we land in case the air goes bad.”
He groaned, realizing he’d have to spend the next four hours with the mask on his face, and it made my lips curl into a bitter half-smile. At least that should keep the fucker quiet.