Page 6 of Risky Passion

I scraped at the dirt with growing urgency. My breath hitched as the outline beneath the tarp came into focus. This wasn’t a child.

The body was an adult.

“Holy shit!”

My pulse thundered in my ears. Onyx had found a relatively fresh grave. Here. At the orphanage.

The remains of the children we’d uncovered were decades old, tied to the orphanage’s long history of horrors. But this told a different story. The body in the tarp had been buried recently . . . a few weeks, a month or two tops.

I would bet my balls that whoever buried them had ties to this place.

As the stench of decay seeped through the tarp, a chilling realization hit me: whoever buried this body here, they were going to be seriously pissed at me for digging up their secret.

CHAPTER 3

Tory

Thick black smokepoured from my left engine as my Twin Otter pitched nose-downward, dropping so fast, the altimeter spun like a top.

The windshield on my plane exploded inward with a thunderous crack, showering me with safety glass. A scream tore from my throat as wind howled through the cabin and my hair whipped around my face in a frenzy.

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! Border Force Delta-Seven-Four. I've been hit by bullets. Making an emergency landing!" My voice was steady despite my hands shaking on the controls. The radio had bullet holes punched through it, so I couldn’t tell if it was working.

But I fucking hoped so.

I scanned the horizon, frantically searching for buildings or roads. Nothing but a jagged shoreline with wild vegetation that stretched forever.

The nearest hint of civilization was forty minutes away.

Fuck! I’m not going to make it.

Getting as close as possible to the shore was my only hope, but even as I fought to stabilize the plane, the controls bucked against my grip.

Speed, angle, descent. Everything was slipping out of my control.

My heart thundered in my chest as I grabbed the radio.

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! This is Border Force Delta-Seven-Four. I’m making an emergency landing at?—”

I froze. If the bastards who shot my planeweremeeting someone, I couldn’t risk giving away my location.

I fought the controls, trying to level out, to slow my descent. ButLadybeetlewas too heavy, too damaged.

“Come on, Lady, just a little more,” I muttered through gritted teeth, trying to coax the dying Twin Otter to hold on. But she was falling fast, the altitude bleeding away with every passing second.

I dropped the mic and tightened my grip on the yoke until my knuckles bulged white.

The shoreline loomed closer, and the waves glinted like shattered glass below. "Stay with me, Lady. Just a little longer."

In the distance, I spotted a decrepit boat half-sunk in the shallows. My stomach turned. That was the boat we’d pulled those human trafficking victims from just weeks ago.

Deadly territory. And that’s right where I was heading.

It wasn’t just the bastards behind that boat I had to worry about, either. This stretch of coastline was crocodile central.

The shoreline filled my windshield, a jarring collision of shimmering blue water and a tangled, weather-beaten vegetation. Every detail seared into my mind. AsLadybeetleplunged from the sky, my stomach lurched like it was being yanked out of me.

Had Mom and Dad felt this same sensation?

---