Page 43 of Betting Blind

As the plane makes a turn onto the straight away and begins to gain speed, I rev my engine and lung forward. The front wheel pops off the ground, and I ride the wheelie until my tire reaches the edge of the ramp. The bike lurches forward and slides on the slick metal surface. I manage to jump and roll to the side as the bike slides and crashes into the wall. My back connects with a large crate and my helmet smacks the ground hard.

Yep. That fucking hurt.

I groan and shake my head, pushing myself to my feet as the plane shifts and takes to the air. The back ramp pulls up and latches with a mechanical hiss. “I can’t believe that fucking worked,” I mutter and limp to the sedan. I check all the doors, but they’re all locked. The windows are too tinted for me to see inside. I need the fucking key. I smack my palm against the glass and listen but hear nothing.

What if they sedated her and she is unconscious? What if they beat her again to get her in the car? What if she is bleeding out in the back of that car? What if she is already dead?

The questions tumble through my mind in rapid succession, and I can’t steady myself. I drop to my knees and hot tears burn my eyes. I draw in a ragged breath and brace my hands against the car door, willing her to make a sound. “Please, dear God, please don’t be dead,” I sob and hit the car door with my palms.

The plane makes a turn to the left, and I shift my body weight to keep from toppling over. The cargo hold is silent except for the occasional shift and groan of metal. I take adeep breath through my nose and get to my feet. I dial Declan before we get too high and I lose service. “I’m inside the plane. I can’t get into the car to get her, but she’s not making any noise. We’re heading west.”

“Find a chute first,” he instructs quickly. “You… Her… Out… Ground… Now…” The static crackles in my ear as the signal goes out and the call fails. My eyes scan the walls until I see a few parachutes hanging from hooks. I look back at the car and an unbidden image of Emelia comes to mind.

She’s laying on her back with her dark hair splayed out beneath her. Her eyes are closed and her pale face is flecked with crimson. Her plump lips are tinted blue and stained red with blood. She’s too still, not even her chest is rising. Blood pools beneath her, trickling from stab wounds along her chest and abdomen.

My already broken heart fractures again, and I feel a piece of my soul shrivel at the thought of Emelia. Cold. Dead. Alone. I fish the guns out of the seat compartment on the bike and make sure the magazines are loaded. I stalk quietly through the door and head out to find someone to use for target practice. I make it all the way to the cockpit without seeing anyone. My hand shakes slightly as I grip the guns and square my shoulders.

My boot kicks the door in, and I point the barrels in either direction as I step inside. My eyes scan the empty seats to the right before narrowing on the pilot in the chair on the right. His eyes are wide and his palms are raised in surrender. “Key,” I snap and point both guns at him.

“I… I don’t have it. I was only instructed to get the bird in the air,” he stammers and licks his lips nervously. His eyes dart all around, searching for something to use against me.

“Well now you have orders to put this fucking bird back on the ground.” I take another step and press the barrel directly against his forehead. “Now.”

“I’m afraid he can’t do that,” a voice from behind me says.

I turn and assess the man in the custom Italian suit standing in the doorway with a Glock hanging loosely from his palm. “The fuck he can’t,” I snap and point the other barrel at him.

He chuckles. “You don’t have the stomach for murder, Silas Kennedy. Always the man of knowledge. Never the man of action.”

I take a deep breath, fighting to keep my hands from trembling and pull the trigger without a second thought. The bullet goes wide and lodges in the wall a few inches from his head. Shit.

His eyes widen, and he moves his arm to raise his gun, but I pull the trigger four more times. In theory, one of those rounds should make contact. It’s science. The pilot shouts and covers his ears with his hands as one of my bullets flies wide. The Italian suit drops to his knees with blood bubbling from his lips. I hit him in the chest three of the four times.

He smiles, his teeth stained crimson, and coughs. “A life for a life,” he wheezes and pulls a small remote from his inner breast pocket. The pilot starts to sob and speak rapidly in a language that I can’t translate at this moment in time.

My eyes widen, and I lunge for him, but his thumb presses a button as he slumps to the side, his eyes dull and lifeless. I let out a string of curses that would make any trucker proud and bolt back to the cargo hold. The plane jerks violently as we fly through turbulence, and I rifle through duffel bag after duffel bag until I find what I’m looking for. I shoulder on one of theparachutes and start ripping off pieces of duct tape, placing them in a pattern on the driver’s side window of the car.

Once there is enough on the window, I use another piece woven through the pattern to wrench the window down a few inches. I can’t see inside, but it’s enough to get my fingers around the top to force it down. I get it halfway down before the plane jolts and rocks with an explosion. Alarms start sounding and the plane tips violently to the left.

That bastard blew an engine. Another string of curses flies from my lips as I pry the window down a little more until I can grab the handle. I exhale a sigh of relief as the door opens and reveals the backseat.

The empty backseat.

My brain stutters for a moment, and I just stand there, blinking at the empty seats. “Trunk,” I whisper and run to the back of the car and jerk open the trunk.

Empty.

Another explosion rips through the aircraft, sending the plane lurching forward as it starts a nose dive. The other engine is gone. The sound of metal grinding fills the air as the plane twists in the air, basically free-falling from an altitude of God fucking knows what. I push myself forward, fighting the gravity that is pressing down on me, and try to pry open the emergency door. The alarms continue to shriek, and the lights flicker and flash.

The reality of the situation crashes down on me. This was a trap. This was them acting out the threat that they promised. This was our payment for our failure.

I lean against the door as every emotion I’ve ever felt weighs down on me. It feels like a giant hole has been ripped through my stomach. I close my eyes and sob loudly as I letmemories flash across my mind. Hayden. Declan. Emelia. My dogs when I was growing up. My graduation from MIT. My first kiss with Hayden. The first time I sank into Emelia. When I learned how to hack into the White House mainframe.

I let them all play freely in my mind on repeat. My happy moments. The moments when I lived life to the fullest. The moments with the people that I love.

The people I love.

If I am going down with this plane, at least the people that I love are not on it. They are somewhere on the ground. Declan and Hayden are safe. They will be able to find Emelia and do what I couldn’t. I take a deep breath and thump my helmet against the metal wall, another sob catches in my throat.

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