Chapter 27
“If you run from a wolf, you may run into a bear.” ~Unknown
Axel
“Babe, stop. It’s me.” The fierce tigress in my arms raises her chin, lowers her claws, and wraps her limbs around me.
“Oh my God. I thought… was anyone hurt?” She feels so damn right. I never want to let go.
“We’ve secured the runway. We’ll talk in the air. Can you walk?”
She tightens her arm around my waist. “I sprained my ankle when I fell. If you let me lean against you, I’ll be fine.”
“Three-legged race?” Recalling our win at her daughter’s school picnic makes her smile as she tests how much weight she can put on her injured side.
“C’mon, wolfman.”
With Hunt and Rho nearby, I loop my rifle over my chest and trust my team. Following the trampled ferns and mushrooms, we make our way to the asshole's abandoned jet.
Her limp worsens, but I dare not slow down. The Belarusian army will show up any minute in force. Once we arrive at the airstrip, her knees give out. One hand under her butt, I scoop her off her feet, rush her toward the steps, and drop her in a seat.
Sutcliff kicks away the portable stairs, shuts the door, and the idling engine roars to life. By the time I return to my wife, she has her tablet on her lap, waiting for it to connect.
The moment we level off, we’re flanked by two enemy aircraft. One fires a missile in front of us, and the world turns on its axis.
While Slate performs evasive maneuvers and alarms blare, Suds swivels in his copilot’s chair. “Any time now, Dr. Wulf.”
The unflappable Slate’s voice echoes from the nose of the plane. "Vilnius Tower, this is Tango-Alpha-654. I’m being fired upon by two Belarusian MiG-29s. Requesting immediate clearance for emergency landing. I’m cruising at fifteen-thousand feet, approaching your airspace from the southeast, fifty miles out. I repeat, I need immediate clearance. Over."
Biting her lower lip, my wife wipes her muddy fingers on the seat cushion. She types some characters, a dot, and the word execute.
Out the portside window, the enemy pilot taps on his control panel. Speaking into his chest, he waves, turns, and descends until he’s no longer in sight. His pal follows on his heels.
Not until the city skyscrapers come into view do I let out my breath. We should be on the ground in no time.
After I return from looking outside, the ceiling above Gwen breaks open, and a body falls out. Oh shit, that’s no dead man, it’s Ledbetter. He clamors to his feet, wraps his left arm around my wife’s neck, and puts a gun to her head.
“Whoa. You harm her, and we all go down.” Hands out in the universal sign of peace, I inch forward.
“You think I care?” Eyes crazed, his right side covered in blood, the unstable man presses his pistol further into Gwen’s temple.
Focus, Wulf. Never have the stakes been so high.
As the tension crackles in the Lear’s cabin, Suds' southern drawl sounds from the cockpit door. “How about you lower your gun, and we talk?”
“How about you shut the fuck up, cowboy. I want this plane turned around, stat. We are landing in Belarus.” Slurring his words, saliva dripping from his mouth, he doesn’t notice the ex-SEAL’s knife.
I shake my head at the brave man about to hurl his blade. While I’m sure he will hit his mark, there are no guarantees the gun will not go off. Destabilizing the pressurized cabin at this speed and altitude could send us tumbling to earth.
Struggling, I try to find the right carrot to dangle in front of the desperate man’s nose. “The Russians will not forgive you. Better to take your chances with us.”
“I am not going to your United States. Your justice system’s a fucking joke.” He tightens his chokehold, and my wife mouths, ‘I love you’ as if she’s afraid they may be her last words.
No fucking way. Before I can make my move, the plane runs into turbulence. When Ledbetter loosens his grip, Gwen dips her chin, ducks under his arm, and delivers an elbow to his groin.
Uncoiling, she swivels, pulls down on his ears, jerks her knee to his forehead, then kicks between his legs. While he howls, Lucky chops the terrorist's right wrist. In slow motion, bones crack, the gun drops, and the trigger hits the edge of the seat.
BOOM.
Oh fuck . The closest window shatters, and anything not tied down flies out. As a spider-like army of oxygen masks descend from the ceiling, I tackle the arms dealer before punching his lights out.
The plane plummets, and for a moment, I’m weightless.
“Wulf!” Gwen’s feet slip closer to the gaping hole.
Grabbing a seatbelt, I lock my fingers around her wrist, inch her away from the broken pane, then tug her up my body.
As we hug, I shout over the rushing air. “I love you, too, babe.”
Never one to fear death, I accept it with grace. Still, I wish we had more time.
See you on the other side, sweetheart…