HIGH FLYING, HIGH DANGER

After years of peace and quiet, Maya Carpenter thinks she’s safe—that her drug-lord father’s world will never catch up with her. Then she’s abducted and secretly stashed on a plane. And once she and the test pilot who finds her land in the Keys, the real threat begins....

Daredevil pilot Connor Jacobson is no one’s hero. And this time, he’s in way over his head. Yet he can’t leave Maya to face danger alone. Besides, he has a few tricks up his sleeve that might keep them safe...as long as he’s willing to put everything at risk, including his heart.

“I’m not the bad guy. I don’t know why you’re on this plane.”

Her dark eyes studied his, looking for the truth in his words.

“The name’s Connor Jacobson, by the way.”

“Maya,” she said. She tugged a strand of her beautiful dark hair away from her face, revealing the shadows under her eyes.

“Maya?” he asked, hoping for a little more.

That’s all she would give. It was enough for now.

Connor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I have a feeling, Maya, that you might know more about what’s going on than me. So why don’t you spill.”

He wished he knew how to completely convince her he wasn’t involved in her kidnapping, but that was only one of the many problems her presence on the plane presented.

The woman had been traumatized, and Connor would give her the space she needed for as long as he could, before he pressed her for information.

He glanced at his watch. She had half an hour.

ELIZABETH GODDARD

is a seventh-generation Texan who grew up in a small oil town in East Texas, surrounded by Christian family and friends. Becoming a writer of Christian fiction was a natural outcome of her love of reading, fueled by a strong faith.

Elizabeth attended the University of North Texas where she received her degree in computer science. She spent the next seven years working in high-level sales for a software company located in Dallas, traveling throughout the United States and Canada as part of the job. At twenty-five, she finally met the man of her dreams and married him a few short weeks later. When she had her first child, she moved back to East Texas with her husband and daughter and worked for a pharmaceutical company. But then, more children came along and it was time to focus on family. Elizabeth loves that she gets to do her favorite things every day—read, write novels, stay at home with her four precious children, and work with her adoring husband in ministry.

Treacherous Skies

Elizabeth Goddard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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God made him who had no sin to be sin for us,

so that in him we might become

the righteousness of God.

—2 Corinthians 5:21

Dedicated to my loving husband, Dan. Always.

Acknowledgments

Let me express my deepest gratitude

to two extraordinary pilots, Steve Ferrell

and Rodney Henderson, for their willingness

to answer my many questions with detailed accounts of how things work, and for reading through my scenes and offering suggestions and corrections. I couldn’t have written this story without the assistance of these two dedicated and experienced pilots. You guys are real heroes!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

ONE

Belize City, Belize

Maya Carpenter glanced around the crowd in the Blue Moon Café, searching for her father, a man she hadn’t seen since she was five years old. A man wanted in ten countries, including this one.

Though uncertain she’d recognize him, he’d said he would know her. A glance at her watch told her he was already twenty minutes late. This wasn’t the type of circumstance that allowed for tardiness.

Something was wrong.

That meant he probably wasn’t going to show. She’d spent a lifetime trying to escape her heritage, but he’d sounded so sincere on the phone two weeks ago—the first contact since she was five—when he shared that he was terminally ill and wanted to see her one last time.

In that moment, he’d been convincing, and how could anyone deny their father a dying wish? She hadn’t even realized it until his call, but she needed closure. Maya had finally agreed, but now?

Doubts suffused her to the core.

She scraped her bag from the chair as she stood and rushed from the table in search of the door. She weaved her way through the dining patrons and dodged the tray-toting waiters until she spotted the exit.

Had she walked into some sort of trap?

But this was her father. He’d supported her mother fleeing to the U.S. from Colombia with Maya after the kidnapping that almost cost her life. He’d never harmed her other than with his poor career choice.

Outside the Blue Moon Café, she found the sidewalk rimming the street and hurried to the parking lot.

A black sedan edged to the curb next to her and she picked up her pace. The door opened and a man in a suit stepped out and into her path. She tried to skirt around him, but he gently grabbed her arm.

“Señorita Carpenter, your father,” he said, his Spanish accent thick, and gestured to the inside of the vehicle.

She leaned forward to peer inside the four-door sedan and there, sitting on the far side in the shadows of the backseat, was Colombian drug lord Eduardo Ramirez. At least, she supposed it was him, though she couldn’t really remember his face, and he would have changed after all these years, as had she.

Maya’s pulse thrummed in her ears and dizziness swept over her.

He stretched his hand toward her, inviting her in. Either she was about to fill a huge hole in a lifetime of hurt and bring closure, or she was the biggest fool that ever lived.

She slid into the seat next to him, and the man on the sidewalk shut the door.

“Papá?” Uncertainty ripped through her as the endearment fell flat.

“Maya, my precious girl. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you.” The man’s laugh was warm and friendly, yet laced with menace. It was definitely not her father’s but somehow familiar. “But no, I’m your father’s worst nightmare.”

* * *

“It’s now or never.”

Connor Jacobson peeled the catering van from his hiding place in the thick forest a safe distance from the airstrip where he and his brother Jake had remained undetected.

Throughout the morning, he’d watched the Learjet for the telltale signs it was being prepped to leave the country—pretending to deliver a catered lunch in order to gain access to the jet wouldn’t work otherwise.

While he watched, the jet had been refueled and though he hoped to see someone perform a preflight check, getting by those armed guards would be tricky. Adding a couple of pilots into the mix might kill the plan completely. Connor didn’t want anyone to get hurt, and that meant he’d have to move fast.

Troy McDaniels of Genesis Air Holdings, an aviation leasing company, had hired Connor to recover the Learjet, making him a Learjet repo man, of sorts.

At least for today.

The men with guns complicated what he’d been led to believe would be the simple recovery of a sleek, private Learjet costing in the millions.

People weren’t usually willing to give up their expensive toys and apparently would go as far as hiding them, but employing a security detail to protect property that no longer belonged to them seemed a little extreme.

This was some serious on-the-job-training for Connor’s first time, because Troy hadn’t said anything about Uzi-toting guards. But Troy had suggested Connor consider using the element of surprise. Now he knew why.

The van bumped over the road, grating at Connor’s already agitated mood. They hadn’t bargained for this. If only he had more than two days to think this through, but he’d been informed that after that time the jet would be out of the country and more difficult to extract.

For the same reason, he’d wait to file a flight plan, and grab his clearance after takeoff. If someone got wind of his plans, the Learjet was as good as gone, taking his hopes for a future with it.

Gunning the van, he tossed a grin Jake’s way, hoping to invigorate his brother, his face now a few shades lighter.

“I’ve come to appreciate that your charm has its advantages.”

Jake had convinced a woman to let him use her catering truck for the morning, though some extra cash had been required to seal the deal. She’d been given the necessary directions about where to find her vehicle later in the day. That is, if everything went as planned.

Now that he’d seen just how remote this airstrip was, he wasn’t sure they’d paid her enough.

“You’re sure a plate of cupcakes is going to convince them?” Jake gripped the overhead handle as Connor floored it over the rutted road to the airfield. “I’d think that caviar would be more in line with what they’re expecting.”

“Relax. There are five plates of sandwiches that, for all they know, were made special for the rich and unscrupulous. They won’t be able to tell the sandwiches are nothing more than tuna. Those will convince them if they question us, which they won’t, and it only takes one platter to get us on the plane. Once we’re on, there’s nothing they can do unless they want to shoot holes in the plane. I doubt they’ve been given that authority.” Or at least he hoped they hadn’t. At the moment, hope was all he had.

From the corner of his eye, Connor could tell that while his brother had agreed to come along at first, now he was losing his nerve—and fast. Connor had invited him for one reason—he needed a copilot to fly the jet and Jake was an experienced commercial pilot for Journey Airlines. Connor had dragged his brother away the day before he was to leave for his vacation in Hawaii. His only regret at the moment was potentially putting his brother in harm’s way.

“Jake, we’re posing as caterers. If they won’t let us on, we’ll think of something else. They’re not going to shoot us for bringing cupcakes. Once we’re on the plane, we shut the door and take off. Got it?”

“Got it.” His brother shifted in his seat, appearing to grab on to the idea as though his life depended on it.

It just might.

Connor’s pulse raced in his ears as he drove around the lone hangar on the remote airstrip. One of the guards came into view. The other must have disappeared into the hangar.

Connor parked the van near the door to the jet where the guard eyed them. Fortunately, he hadn’t assumed an aggressive posture that signaled suspicion, and a quick glimpse told Connor the other one wasn’t on his way back. Amazing what a van decorated in the flowering script of a catering business could do.

“Wipe your palms, buddy.” Connor laughed as he spoke to Jake, hoping the guard standing like a sentinel next to the bird would see that he and Jake were good ole boys just doing their job.

Connor wondered if they were expecting the jet to be repossessed or if they were protecting the plane for another reason. If the lessee was mixed up in something requiring armed guards, it was none of Connor’s business. He was just there for the plane.

When Connor stepped from the vehicle, he strode around the front of the van to speak with the dark-haired sentry. Connor tugged a slip of paper from his pocket and stared at it as though he needed confirmation.

“We’re here to deliver food to a jet on this strip, and the N-number matches. Never mind there’s only two jets here and this one is the only white Learjet with black-and-gold stripes.” Connor laughed, but the guard didn’t crack a smile.

He held out a pink-frosted cupcake with red sprinkles. “I was afraid we’d be late. You hungry?” he asked.

The guard eyed the cupcake then glanced over at the hangar. Finally he shook his head. “No.”

Connor got the sense the guy wanted the cupcake, but thought better of it. Good. The man believed the story. “Suit yourself.”

Jake got out of the vehicle, his demeanor a little too cautious for Connor, but then again, the guns should intimidate any normal person. He slapped his brother on the back and slid the side of the van door open to reveal the food. Each of them grabbed a tray.

The guard slid his key into the Learjet door, unlocked and tugged down the steps, then lifted the top section for them. Jake hopped up the three short steps into the jet and then made a show of entering the cabin to deposit the plate after which he would slip into the cockpit where he would begin the start-up sequence. It would take thirty seconds for each of the engines to start, but they only needed one to taxi the jet down the runway, putting distance between them and the guards, and they could start the other engine during the taxi.

Connor handed off one of the two plates to the guard, buying a little time. The guard hesitated at first then finally took the plate.

“Help yourself. There’s an extra plate anyway.” He gestured to the van. “Drinks are in the van.”

He hopped up the steps and entered the jet, joining his brother. They had no more than ten seconds, if that, before the distracted guard noticed he’d been outmaneuvered.

When Connor spotted the guard heading to the hangar with the plate of cupcakes, he tugged the steps closed and shut them inside the jet.

Jake began the start-up sequence, and Connor watched the hangar through the small window.

Fifteen seconds and counting.

The guards appeared at the hangar entrance and launched toward them, holding their weapons in the air.

“Jake. Get this thing moving.”

Connor couldn’t lock the guards out, so he secured the door by holding the handle in place. They would be on him in seconds.

The door shook as the two gun-toting men tried to open it. They pounded on it, spewing curses.

The first engine fired up. Jake began taxiing the jet. The guards banged harder against the door.

Were they going to shoot? Connor held his breath and sent up a silent prayer.

Jake increased their speed until the guards could no longer keep up.

Connor dropped into the pale leather captain’s chair in the cockpit next to his brother. The first engine had reached the ten percent mark, and Connor brought number-two thrust lever forward.

Gunfire pinged the fuselage, sounding like the last couple of kernels of popcorn in the microwave. He hoped the bullets didn’t pierce the exterior.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t shoot?” In the close quarters of the cockpit, Jake’s glare felt more like a death threat.

“I guess they figure they’re in big trouble for losing the plane over a plate of cupcakes.” Connor thought that would make his brother laugh, but Jake’s expression remained solemn.

The Lear increased speed down the runway until they lifted into the air. Connor’s elation soared with the jet, his relief palpable. “Now that we’re airborne, get us clearance so we can start climbing to altitude.”

Communications complete, they continued increasing altitude. Heart knocking against his rib cage, Connor felt more alive than he had in months. They had actually succeeded.

He released a long sigh, his adrenaline-powered energy expended for the moment. “We made it.”

“Are you saying you had any doubt? Because you sure went out of your way to convince me it would be a piece of cupcake.” Jake laughed, his face finally relaxing. “I can’t believe I survived that.”

“Yeah, I guess I still owe you, then.”

“I’m not sure you can afford to repay me.”

“That bad, huh?”

“With the time you spent in Iraq getting shot down, and then flying those test planes, I’d say you’re accustomed to facing death on a daily basis. Me? I enjoy life too much.”

“Sorry about that. This wasn’t exactly what I imagined we’d face, either.”

In repossessing the jet, he’d fully expected to walk into the airport, present the required documentation—insurance, lease termination, power of attorney, the works—then file a new flight plan and fly the plane out. That was before he and his copilot brother had discovered the Learjet had been moved to a private, uncontrolled airfield an hour and a half drive from the airport in Belize City.

That also was before they’d seen the two armed men lurking near the jet as though they were expecting a hostile takeover. But it didn’t matter anymore. He and Jake had the jet now, and Connor was on his way to getting his life back on track.

While serving as a fighter pilot, he’d crashed and burned once too often, and the Flying Evaluation Board had deemed him unable to fly safely. He’d lost his wings and served out the rest of his term as an Air Liaison Officer. Then as a test pilot, crash and burn had officially become his M.O. or modus operandi.

Though most people didn’t consider an ex-fighter pilot anything but a hero, Connor couldn’t help but think of himself as a loser. He’d wanted to be an Air Force hero like his dad, like his grandfather, but he’d failed miserably. Maybe if he switched gears and gave up the risky flying jobs altogether, he wouldn’t be the loser of the family anymore. He’d be able to get back on speaking terms with Reg, his older, overachieving brother.

If he’d gotten on track sooner, then maybe...Connor would still be engaged.

Retrieving the jet would secure him the funds he needed to buy the aeronautical business that serviced the airport, making him an FBO, or fixed-based operator, and keeping him firmly planted on the ground.

Too bad the only way to get those funds had been another risky job. Too bad he had the feeling that settling down wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

Wanting to shake the negative thoughts, Connor stood to shrug out of his jacket. A loud bang resounded from the back of the cabin. Stunned silence passed between Connor and Jake.

“I’ll check it out,” Connor said.

Dread sliced through him as he exited the cockpit. He hadn’t even considered searching the plane first. He’d assumed Jake would have at least taken a cursory glance in the lavatory since he was the first one on. But then again they hadn’t exactly had time for anything besides a quick escape.

As he strode down the aisle he took in the extravagantly furnished and spacious cabin. Rich, supple leather covered the reclining seats and walls, and an elegant wood veneer, the cabinets and accent trim.

The pounding continued and he searched the compartments for a weapon. It was reasonable to expect a person that would hire security with Uzis would also store a weapon for personal protection somewhere on this rig. Connor almost wished he’d smuggled his nine millimeter into Belize with him. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk, but he hadn’t known then what he knew now.

“Connor,” Jake called from the cockpit.

He spun around. Jake dangled a firearm from the trigger guard. “Found it under the seat.”

Connor made his way back to retrieve the gun. Once he held the nine millimeter in his hands he made sure a few rounds were chambered.

Glock ’n’ roll.

Jake cleared his throat. “You know what happens when we shoot guns on planes, right?”

His brother worried too much. Though using a firearm in a pressurized cabin wasn’t the smartest thing, it wasn’t as if one bullet hole—or even several—in the fuselage would cause an explosive decompression.

Maybe just a slow pressure leak. Before Connor could return the sarcasm, the knocking grew louder.

Connor held his weapon at the ready and swallowed—the last thing he needed was a situation in which he was forced to actually use the gun in his hands.

He opened the door.

Terrified, honey almond eyes stared back at him, the woman’s mouth smothered with duct tape.

TWO

Maya stared down the barrel of a weapon aimed straight at her.

Her bravado bled out of her.

No, not like this!

She crumpled under the threat of a bullet to the head and pleaded with her eyes, while trying to force her muffled pleas through the duct tape. The man behind the gun narrowed his gaze as she begged with hers.

When he moved in, a sudden surge of desperation exploded inside her. Sitting back in the lavatory, she seized what she saw as her last chance of survival and kicked him in the face, slamming her tethered heels into his jaw.

The force of her kick propelled him against the wall opposite the door. Maya stood, prepared to fight her way out. Though stunned, he recovered too quickly.

He moved his jaw in an exaggerated way, as though testing the damage, but stood prepared, regarding her with caution.

“Listen, I’m not the bad guy here.” He put the gun away.

How did he expect her to believe that when he was on a plane headed to Bogotá, a kidnapped woman in tow? She screamed, the sound bursting through her head, and charged him.

He dodged, and she slammed into the wall. Raging pain burned through her shoulder, and though she tried to remain standing, turbulence and dizziness pushed her to the floor, where she lay heaving. Okay. So she couldn’t fight her way out of this with brawn; she’d have to use her brain—if only she hadn’t listened to her heart when her father called.

Strong arms cradled her, then lifted her from the floor. “It looks like you’ve been through the wringer, but I promise I had nothing to do with it.”

Maya started to buck in protest, despite the sincerity she heard in his voice.

“Shh.” He placed her gently into one of eight comfortable leather seats in a lavishly decorated cabin.

“If you’ll calm down long enough for me to remove the tape and the plastic ties, then maybe we can figure out what’s going on.”

Remaining in the cockpit, the other pilot leaned over in his seat to eye the situation. Maya glared at the man who stood over her, wishing her eyes were stilettos. Maybe she could stab him with her stare.

* * *

The woman could slice through him with the look she gave. Connor took a step back and shrugged, his heart pounding in rhythm with his jaw at this new development.

“Do you want me to set you free, or should I stuff you back in the lavatory?” Ouch. He cringed at his harsh tone.

Her body language wasn’t very encouraging, and he felt cruel for not immediately cutting her free. But she could pose a threat. At the moment, he didn’t have a clue what he was dealing with.

For a split second, he considered turning the plane around and giving her back. Finding an abducted woman inside the airplane he was repossessing was above his pay scale, or at least was another left-out detail for which he’d been unprepared. Regardless, he didn’t consider turning back to face submachine guns an option.

She stared up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion, fear and anger.

Connor sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but just calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He moved in, approaching her slowly as though she might bite if he moved too quickly. “I’m going to remove the duct tape. Is that okay with you?”

Her fierce, but beautiful eyes softened if only a little, and she nodded, appearing resigned to her fate. Careful not to move too fast, he peeled the tape away from her mouth.

She drew in a breath and groaned at what had to hurt, although he’d been gentle with the tape.

Then her eyes sliced through him again and her mouth followed. “You’re not going to hurt me? I was kidnapped, bound, gagged and stuffed in the lavatory of the plane you’re on.”

Ignoring her verbal attack for the moment, he reached behind her, cutting the plastic ties from her wrists with a knife from his ankle strap. Remaining guarded that she might try to harm him in some way, he cut the ankle ties, as well.

She rubbed her wrists and ankles, now free of the ties, clearly relieved to be rid of them. “Where are you taking me?”

While Connor watched her, he found two bottles of water in the refrigerator. “Thirsty?” He held one of them out to her.

Giving him a wary look, she took the bottle and opened it. “It’s not drugged, is it?”

Without waiting for his reply, she drank half the water. Her captors had left her for hours and now she was so thirsty she didn’t care if the water was drugged? A burning sensation started in the pit of his stomach as his mind wrapped around the fact he’d found a kidnapped woman on the Learjet.

Connor sank into the seat across from her, uncertain how to reassure her.

“I told you already,” he said gently. “I’m not the bad guy. I didn’t kidnap you, and I don’t know why you’re on this jet. I’m just doing my job and flying it back to the rightful owner. But I’ll admit, I didn’t retrieve the plane on friendly terms.”

What had he gotten into? He took a swig from his bottle. “So it appears someone stuffed you in the lavatory for safekeeping, intending to take you elsewhere and you’re just my accidental passenger.”

More like hazardous cargo.

THREE

Her honey eyes studied Connor’s, looking for the truth in his words.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She looked down as though examining her body and seemed to notice her disheveled appearance. She shook her head, but he wasn’t sure he believed her.

His heart ached. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Her well-defined dark brows furrowed slightly. “If you’re not working with—” she stopped midsentence, hesitating, measuring her words “—my kidnapper, then who are you?”

Okay. He could give her that much. But he had the strong feeling she was about to tell him who had kidnapped her, and he had every intention of dragging that information out of her.

“The name’s Connor Jacobson. I used to be a test pilot. And before that a fighter pilot in the Air Force.” Maybe a little background would earn some of her trust. He drank more water while fixing his eyes on hers. “But now I’m...” He didn’t finish. What exactly was he now?

“Maya,” she said, and stared at the plastic bottle. She tugged a strand of her thick mane, the color of dark-roasted coffee, away from her face, revealing the shadows under her eyes.

“Maya?” he asked, hoping for a little more.

That’s all she would give. It was enough for now.

Connor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I have a feeling, Maya, that you might know more about what’s going on than me. It would help me if you’d tell me what you know, like who kidnapped you for starters. And why.”

“I haven’t eaten since early yesterday.” She avoided his eyes and rubbed her hand over the soft leather of the seat. “Do you have food to go with the water?”

Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to believe him, though if he were in her skin, he’d be suspicious, too. He wished he knew how to completely convince her he wasn’t involved in her abduction, but that was only one of the many problems her presence on the plane presented.

The woman had been traumatized, and Connor would give her the space she needed for as long as he could before he pressed her for information.

He glanced at his watch. She had half an hour. After that, he’d need time to make a plan before they landed.

* * *

Maya watched the sturdy pilot rise from his seat, never taking his eyes from her, as though he was suspicious of her. Finally he had to turn his back—hopefully, in search of food.

Why would he be suspicious of her? It’s not as if she had a weapon or could hurt him. Though she had inflicted some damage to his jaw, she was the victim here.

How she wanted to trust him, to believe that God had sent someone to rescue her. But his story that he’d taken the plane and was flying it back to the rightful owner sounded so far-fetched it was difficult to believe. She knew the answer. She squeezed her eyes, reminding herself that her own situation was even more implausible. That’s why she wanted to avoid telling him what she knew for as long as possible.

When she’d woken in the dark with a throbbing headache to discover her wrists and ankles bound, and duct tape over her mouth, she’d quickly determined she was in the lavatory of an airplane, though it was larger than most she’d been in on commercial airlines. The distinct sensation of takeoff confirmed it. She tried to stand and unlock the door, but with her hands bound behind her back, it was impossible to reach.

Her mind screamed with memories from the last time she’d been kidnapped and trapped in a small, dark room. The horrors and fear of that time, locked away inside all these years, had suddenly become reality again. And that reality went by the name of Roberto Hernandez. His face was the last thing she remembered seeing before everything went black. Among her vague memories of her abduction, she remembered hearing that Roberto had a Learjet waiting to cart her back to Colombia.

The man was head of the drug cartel that rivaled her father’s, and he was the very same man who’d taken her as a child. Now he was back in her life. But why? Was he connected to her father’s no-show?

Her well-meaning plans and hard work to change her life, to escape her heritage as a drug lord’s daughter, hadn’t made any difference. Even living in a country that seemed like a world away from her birthplace of Colombia hadn’t kept her safe. She was back in the middle of hostilities between rivals, her limbs pulled and stretched by warring parties.

She had no idea how long she’d been out and given that she ached all over, she had to wonder what they’d done to her. Who had drugged her?

The pilot? Was he in on this, though he claimed his innocence?

He returned with a plate filled with an assortment of pink and chocolate cupcakes decorated in multicolored sprinkles, and an apologetic grin at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything more nutritious. The plate of sandwiches didn’t make it on to the plane,” he said.

“A sandwich would have been good,” she said, taking a cupcake. “But thank you for this.”

“At least a cupcake will tide you over until we reach Miami to refuel.”

Miami? At least he wasn’t headed to Colombia. For that she was grateful.

Ravenous hunger shoved aside her manners, and Maya ate one cupcake in two bites, licking the chocolate icing from her fingers.

She gazed up to find him still standing there, holding the platter. With his sun-bleached hair against tanned skin, strong jaw and cover-model looks, he was handsome as they came, but he also had a thoughtful gaze. Make that, concerned and distracted.

What was he up to in taking this Learjet? She got the feeling he was in the dark about the owner or else he wouldn’t have lifted it. He had that wholesome, Eagle Scout air about him.

“Why don’t you take the whole plate? You’re hungry.” He chuckled. “I’ll get some napkins and more water.”

She liked the sound of his laugh, and her earlier feelings of unease and suspicions were slowly fading.

A few seconds later, he sank into the seat across from her again, holding the napkins and water. She ate slower now, and finished off her second cupcake, then took another bottle of water from him.

At some point, he was going to ask her again what she knew, and she’d play dumb as long as she could, but she had a few questions of her own. “So, you said you took the plane on unfriendly terms. What does that mean exactly, and who are you working for?”

He was sitting back now, his elbow on the armrest and his forefinger over his lips. He arched a brow at her questions. His hesitation told her he still had his own suspicions about her, and was considering his response. She didn’t get that.

“Why don’t you go first?” he asked.

Maya had been about to eat another cupcake but lost her appetite and put it back on the platter. “Isn’t it obvious? I was kidnapped. I’ve got a lot more reason to be suspicious of you than you have to be suspicious of me.”

“Maybe I can help you.” Connor dropped his hand and squeezed the armrest. “Think. You have to know something. Who would want to kidnap you and why, for starters? For a ransom maybe? Or...did you get mixed up in something illegal? Maybe got in over your head?”

He had to be thinking she was selling drugs, of course, and someone had plans to make her pay. Or maybe he wasn’t thinking along those lines at all. But to Maya, that was the obvious scenario. She looked away, hating that anyone could ever think that of her. But the truth was not much better, in her opinion.

If she could make it out of this and back home without ever having to reveal her father’s identity and that she had planned to meet him, she just might make it home unscathed.

Please, God...

“I can see you’re not ready to trust me yet. But let’s at least be honest with each other. You know something. The name of your kidnapper was on your lips before you caught yourself. I have to wonder why you would keep that a secret.”

“Someone kidnapped me—I’m the victim here. Why are you treating me like this? Why would you question me? Are you in law enforcement?”

Regret filled his eyes, and he placed his hand on hers.

“I’m sorry. I had no right,” he said. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’ll contact the authorities and explain what’s happened, that we have a kidnapped woman on board.”

He frowned, apparently not liking the sound of his words any more than she did.

“You can’t do that,” she said.

“Uh, Connor?” the other pilot called from the cockpit. “You’d better get up here.”

“What is it?” he asked, but his Caribbean-blue eyes remained on her.

Of course, he wanted to know why she’d asked him not to contact the authorities. How could she explain?

“Connor. Now.”

Maya shoved from her seat and followed him to the cockpit. The other pilot gave her a cursory glance, his full attention focused on the object soaring ahead of them outside the window.

“Why is there a fighter jet harassing us?” he asked. “Is there a reason the military would be after us?”

After dropping in the other chair, Connor assessed the situation. “That’s not military—not anymore. It’s an old out-of-commission fighter jet, an A-4 Skyhawk.” The Skyhawk flew above and slightly ahead of them and rocked its wings. “Intercept aircraft. I don’t see his wingman, but he wants us to follow.”

Connor attempted to establish radio communication without success, which meant this intercept wasn’t legitimate.

The other pilot huffed. “He’s not responding? That figures, considering everything else that’s gone right so far.”

“In that case, he probably doesn’t want to be identified.” Connor rubbed his chin and looked behind him at Maya, his eyes boring into hers. “This just gets better and better. Uh, Jake, this is Maya, our accidental passenger. And this is my copilot brother, Jake.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at Maya. “Nice to meet you.”

His eyes weren’t convincing. “And you,” Maya said.

“What do you make of it, then?” Jake asked, quickly turning his attention back to their dilemma.

“I think someone is either upset that we’ve taken their Learjet, or they’re upset that we’ve taken their hostage, or both, and they’re letting us know.”

“And we’re not going to follow them, right?” His brother’s question begged for confirmation.

“Definitely not.”

“Who is ‘they,’ anyway?” Jake cut a questioning glance to Maya, his eyes a similar blue to Connor’s. “And how do we defend ourselves without weapons?”

When Connor didn’t respond, his brother continued. “Come on, Connor. You’re the fighter pilot slash test pilot. Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

Connor shook his head, his voice grave. “You know this plane isn’t rated to make extreme maneuvers.”

Maya felt an invisible hand squeeze her throat as if she could never escape Roberto, even thousands of feet in the air.

FOUR

“I’m calling for help,” Jake said.

Connor squeezed the power lever, wishing he could take action. “Just who do you think is going to come to our rescue? And if we call for help now, they could shoot us out of the sky and be gone before anyone’s the wiser.”

“What are we going to do?” His brother ground out the words.

He didn’t blame Jake. Connor never should have dragged his brother with him into this over-the-top recovery operation. Should never have agreed to get involved with this in the first place.

“What are we going to do?” Connor repeated the question, considering his options, which weren’t many. Was he destined to go down again?

No. Thinking about his failures right now wouldn’t do any good.

He looked behind him at the dark-haired beauty—the hazardous cargo he’d found on the Learjet who might end up costing them all their lives.

“You’d better take a seat and fasten your seat belt,” he said.

“What...what are you going to do?” Maya hesitated in the doorway.

Connor cocked a brow. “You sure you want to find out the hard way?”

She disappeared into the cabin, and he gave her a few seconds before sending the jet in an arcing dive toward the earth.

“What are you trying to do, get us killed?” Jake asked. “You know we can’t engage them.”

“You just asked me if I had any tricks.” Connor’s palms slicked against the power levers, but his brother was right. Connor drew in a long breath. “Relax. I just wanted to see what the Skyhawk would do.”

Connor leveled the Learjet, flying at thirty thousand feet. The Skyhawk stayed with them. If Connor didn’t follow, would they be shot out of the sky? He wanted to outmaneuver the fighter jet, but he reined in the crazy thought. Like Jake said, that could get them all killed. He had more than himself to worry about this time.

This time.

His pulse rocketed as images bombarded him.

He was flying now, somewhere over the Mojave Desert when both engines died. The ground came at him fast, the experimental test plane dropping to the earth way too fast. There wasn’t enough time. Seconds...he had seconds left, but they weren’t enough. He ejected later than he should have, and then he slammed against the earth.

“Connor...Connor!” Jake’s voice broke through the vision from his past.

Glancing at his brother, Connor drew in a breath. He’d spent months recuperating from his injuries after the crash, destroying the experimental plane he’d flown as a test pilot—another bird like this Learjet that cost in the millions.

Destroying his career and future.

Unlike the test plane, at least Connor had survived and all his body parts were in functioning order.

That was six months ago and it wasn’t long enough to minimize his trauma. Still, it was enough to keep him from making an extreme attempt to outmaneuver the fighter pilot to his left. Regardless, he was in no position to engage in a dogfight.

“Give me a minute to think,” he said.

“I’m not sure we’ve got a minute.”

“In order to intercept us like this they had to have departed farther down our route and watched for us from anywhere in the Yucatán Peninsula, Haiti or Cuba. Then climbed to the same altitude and flown in a holding pattern, waiting for us,” Connor said. “They had to know almost instantly that we’d taken this plane, and chosen this route.”

“But we’re too far into the Caribbean now and out of radar coverage,” Jake said.

Connor glanced Jake’s way. “GPS,” he said, simultaneously with his brother.

“So they installed GPS tracking, probably because they were afraid someone was going to take their plane.” Jake glared at Connor.

“As soon as we’re out of this, find the GPS device so we can’t be followed. Maybe it’s somewhere in the cockpit and easy to dismantle.”

“Who is this person, anyway?” Jake asked.

“Someone who wants this Learjet back,” Connor said. “Thought we’d already established that.”

“Just a guess, but seems to me we’ve picked a fight with someone who is powerful and dangerous.” Jake glanced behind him, but Maya remained in the cabin. “What should we do now, turn around?”

What had Connor gotten himself, gotten them, into? This was all too much and happening way too fast. “Are you kidding me? There’s no way I plan to turn this plane around.”

“Yes, I was kidding. But then again, what choice do we have?” Jake asked.

Connor couldn’t stand the defeat he heard in his brother’s voice. Incredulity raced through his veins, and he cut Jake a glance. “Like that’s any choice? They’d kill us on the spot. They kidnapped a woman, remember?”

When Troy had hired Connor to recover this Learjet, he told Connor that a reputable businessman had fallen behind on his payments and all Connor needed to do was fly the jet back.

You might want to consider using the element of surprise...

Troy’s words seemed to echo in the cockpit now. After everything that had happened, Connor understood the warning better, and he understood something else, as well—the man who had owned this Learjet was anything but reputable. Maya’s presence just upped the stakes, but maybe they could come out of this like heroes.

The fighter jet flew closer then thrust ahead of the Lear, flying in front of them in a dangerous pattern. Connor wasn’t impressed.

“Okay. I vote we call for help.” Jake emphasized the last three words. “Someone needs to know what’s going on.”

Connor shook his head, cautioning him.

“Like I said before, you get on the radio now and they might decide to destroy all the evidence.”

“They’re not going to shoot us out of the sky,” Maya said.

The sound of her smooth voice startled Connor. He hadn’t realized Maya had left her seat and now stood behind him. She knew more than she was admitting, just as he suspected. “How can you be sure?”

“I can’t. But I think the Learjet owner wants his plane back, and he won’t get that if he shoots it out of the sky.”

She didn’t make mention that he wanted her back, as well.

“They’re not going to follow us into U.S. airspace, either,” Connor said.

“There’s no need to. He already has people inside, and they’ll be waiting for us.”

The Skyhawk backed off and disappeared, and almost in unison, Connor and Jake released a long sigh. Connor looked over his shoulder. Maya had returned to the cabin.

“We need to change our passenger manifest before we land.” Connor stood to leave the cockpit.

Jake eyed him. “You’re full of bright ideas today. Just how do we do that midflight?”

“Figure it out and look for that GPS tracking device.” He didn’t have time for any of this. “I’m going to find out what Maya knows.”

Just who exactly were they dealing with? He swiped a hand down his face as he paused before stepping into the cabin, hardly believing what had happened. How could he get answers from Maya?

Reg would know how to do it. Connor grimaced. Why did he have to think about Reg right now? His older brother’s angry face filled his mind—the good son in the family with a successful career in the FBI. Connor didn’t want to think about Reg’s reaction should he find out what Connor had dragged Jake into.

He hadn’t spoken to his brother in two years. Always the failure, never the hero—Reg’s last words to him pounded against his already aching head. It didn’t look as though Connor was anywhere close to changing that, despite his efforts today.

He shoved his failures aside. He needed to remain focused and keep a positive outlook, but this little mission wasn’t looking nearly as advantageous as it had.

* * *

Maya searched the posh lavatory.

There...

Her pulse slowed a little. The men who’d taken her last night had crammed her bag into a small storage compartment. She still grappled with the fact that Roberto Hernandez had found her after over twenty years—and kidnapped her again. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to get her and because of that, she doubted she’d escape his claws this time. That fighter jet showed her just how determined he’d become.

But why now? What had happened to reignite his interest in her? She didn’t doubt that her father had everything to do with it. She dumped the contents of her purse, which seemed considerably lighter, on the counter. Lipstick, a small brush, mirror and breath mints spilled out.

But no wallet.

Her heart skipped an awkward rhythm. That meant no cash. No credit cards. No driver’s license. She dug inside the handwoven bamboo-and-satin bag. There. She felt something... Her hopes climbed.

Maya tugged out her passport. They’d taken her money but wanted her to be able to travel without raising questions. She stumbled from the lavatory, dropped into the rear seat, set her bag on the floor at her feet and pressed her passport against her chest.

Without this, she couldn’t even make it back into the country. She drew in a few calming breaths. If she could just walk off the plane, slide through customs and evade Roberto’s men somehow, then she’d have a chance to consider her next step.

Without her passport, avoiding more trouble would be impossible.

Still, she was reduced to walking through this crisis moment by moment, one day at a time. Everything hinged on what the pilot intended to do with her. She’d been kidnapped and stowed away on his plane. Yes. But he wasn’t involved with Roberto. That much she believed. Now to convince him to let her be.

She needed to handle this in her own way. She couldn’t lose control of her life again. How could she make him understand?

Maya stared out the window at the Caribbean Sea passing beneath them. Soon it would change to the Gulf of Mexico as they traveled to Miami on what had to be a ninety-minute, maybe two-hour, flight.

She had an hour, if that, to figure things out. How much could she share with him and still hold on to what little of her life was left?

She only had herself to blame for the mess she was left with—she should never have agreed to meet her father.

One wrong decision and everything she’d worked for slipped from her grasp. How would she survive this? Even if she did survive, how would she escape and return unscathed, live the life she’d created without anyone being the wiser?

The pilot would want answers. She needed to tell him enough so he would understand how important it was to avoid contacting the authorities, and yet keep her identity and her life as secret as possible.

No one knew better than her, no one would understand that only she could solve this problem. Only she could connect with her father—for real this time—to discover why this man kidnapped her again. To discover what it would take to end this once and for all.

For twenty-plus years, she had deluded herself into believing she’d escaped Roberto for good. Roberto and her father were bitter rivals, and their feud could easily be taken right out of the headlines as they’d battled over territories for decades. He wanted to use her against her father, and the authorities would do the same if they discovered who she was. Her life would never be her own.

If the authorities knew her true identity, she’d be monitored, and then she could never safely make contact with her father again. Nor would she get the chance to say goodbye.

But Connor wouldn’t understand, nor did she blame him. Maya pressed her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. She heard the squish of leather and knew the pilot sat across from her.

Instead of acknowledging him, she coiled inside herself, wanting to stay hidden away as long as possible.

“You need to tell me everything.” The deep timbre of his voice mingled frustration with betrayal, but she didn’t hear the fear she expected. “Right. Now.”

She dropped her hands and lifted her eyes to meet the piercing daggers in his. “Why do you look at me like that? I’m as much a victim here as you.”

Her words didn’t appear to move him with compassion. Not much, anyway. Still, she didn’t miss the fleeting crease between his brows. Using a harsh tone with her pained him. He didn’t like having to question her like this any more than she liked being interrogated. But she understood why he needed answers.

“You said, ‘he already has people inside, and they’ll be waiting for us.’ What did you mean? Who are you talking about? We don’t have time for games. Who kidnapped you?”

Why wasn’t he terrified? Didn’t he understand the danger they were in? Or was he a tough guy, a dangerous man himself, for reasons she’d yet to learn? Maybe his Eagle Scout air was simply a facade. Who was he, really?

When Maya didn’t answer, he leaned back in the seat as though he had all the time and patience in the world. Maybe he did. But he didn’t know what she knew. “You don’t have to tell me anything. You can tell the authorities when we land,” he said.

Maya’s heart jolted against her chest. He knew which buttons to push. Smart man.

“The man who kidnapped me, who owns this Learjet, is a powerful Colombian drug lord.” She’d been pulled back into the Colombian drug wars, used as a pawn and stretched between the warring factions. Between Roberto and her father, but she’d leave that information out as long as she could.

“I see.” Connor pressed his finger against his lower lip, contemplating her words. “Then why does he want you? What are you to him?”

This was the part where Maya needed to buy herself time, stall him as long as possible. Forever, if she could. And anyway she honestly didn’t understand why she’d been kidnapped this time. She could only guess. “You should be more worried about the fact that you stole his Learjet. He will be waiting for you.”

Roberto Hernandez had connections everywhere. That’s why her mother had gone to great lengths to hide her over twenty years ago. Maya would have thought he’d forgotten her with so much time gone by. Now she doubted she’d ever find solace again until the man was dead.

The pilot shook his head. “We’re landing in Miami. He can’t get us there.”

Maya prided herself on reading people and understanding their motivations. Despite her previous concern that he could be a dangerous man himself, Maya believed Connor considered himself a law-abiding citizen, and that what he’d done in taking the plane was aboveboard. He didn’t understand that “right” and “wrong” didn’t matter to Roberto. All he cared about was what he viewed as his property—and he’d go to any lengths to hold on to it...and punish those who took it.

“You don’t know who you can trust, even there. Even if you remove me from the equation, you forget that you have just stolen a plane.”

“I didn’t steal the plane. I was acting as a recovery agent, representing my friend at a leasing company that owns it. For whatever reason, the payments—which are significant, by the way—have fallen into arrears. I have all the paperwork I need to recover the plane for the rightful owner.”

“How much do you trust your friend at this company?”

The way the pilot’s lips parted slightly, Maya knew she’d hit her mark. She’d created fear and doubt. And in doing so, she realized something herself. Roberto could have had all his assets frozen—including any front companies he might own in the U.S. Or maybe his cartel had been destroyed, making him more desperate than ever. That would explain why someone had sent Connor to repossess the Learjet he used, and why Roberto had gone to such lengths to kidnap her again before it was too late. He could torture her father and ransom her for the money he needed at the same time.

“Whether or not your repossession of this Learjet is legitimate, our welcoming committee could ferry all of us back into Roberto’s hands.” The truth of her words snaked around her chest and squeezed.

Though he stared at her as if he believed she was crazy, she knew she’d planted the seed deep and that the pilot would give her words sufficient consideration. She needed him to focus on his own problems and allow her to take care of herself. That was her only hope for escape. Her only hope to return to the life she’d created—that is, once she found out how to end Roberto’s pursuit of her forever.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked, a shred of alarm finally making an appearance in his blue-eyed gaze.

Maya opened her mouth to speak—

Connor’s attention was torn from her by a muffled explosion.

FIVE

What’s happening?

Connor looked out the window and saw nothing wrong. Nothing leaking from the right engine. No fire. No damage that he could see from where he stood, anyway. But he hadn’t imagined the muted blast. Maya’s reaction told him she’d heard it, too.

The Lear rolled to the right, throwing Connor into Maya. Time spilled into eternity as he found himself pressed against her soft, trembling body. When he searched her eyes—almost getting lost in their depths—he saw her terror.

Was she afraid they would crash?

Or more afraid they would land?

“I’m sorry.” He gently extricated himself from her, his thoughts split between her and getting to the cockpit. “Did I hurt you?”

Her eyes locked with his, she shook her head. Suddenly, he wanted to make everything right for her. Protect her. He shook off the momentary insanity, ramping his mind back to reality. Everything crashed into him at once—retrieving the Learjet, Maya’s kidnapping, the muted explosion outside the window.

The plane shook with a battering vibration.

Maya gripped the seat. “What’s happening?”

“You’d better strap in.” Connor left her and ran to the cockpit, a loud buzz resounding in his ears from somewhere in the back. He sank into the captain’s seat next to Jake.

“Is it the engine?” Connor asked.

“That was my first thought, but the instrument panel, temperatures and oil pressures show normal.”

Connor saw for himself that there was nothing different between the two engines. He took control of the plane, increasing speed.

“What are you doing?”

“Just trying something.” Control response improved with speed, despite the shaking. “I guess I’ve flown enough experimental planes that my instincts sometimes take over.”

The buzz morphed into a clacking sound—like a stick thrust into a big fan.

“How nice for you, but now we have a new sound, and no warning lights. What’s up with that?”

Connor didn’t miss the sweat beading on Jake’s forehead.

“Just inform air traffic control that we need to make an emergency landing,” he said.

“I don’t think we’re going to make Miami,” Jake said, then contacted ATC.

“Lear 46RH, we understand that you are declaring an emergency due to a small explosion and violent shaking. Turn left to the Golden Key airstrip, descend and maintain 8,000.”

Connor recalled what he knew of Golden Key. The resort island for tourists and the wealthy was just beyond the Dry Tortugas.

After Jake repeated the instructions, the air traffic controller continued, “Lear 46RH please say souls and fuel on board.”

Jake glanced at Connor. He knew Jake was thinking about Maya, their extra passenger. “Three souls on board and ninety minutes of fuel.”

As Jake finished the conversation, Connor watched the instruments. The plane’s vibration was starting to get to him. Maya had probably already crumpled in her seat by now. But there was nothing he could do to help her.

Then he saw it. “There it is. The right engine temperature is rising.”

“The left is still good,” Jake said.

“Let’s shut the right down and run checklists.”

“Whatever you say.”

Connor smiled to himself in spite of the circumstances—Jake was a good pilot. He’d never flown with his brother, but the pressure was on, and Jake wasn’t buckling under the crush. They shut down the right engine, and ran through the emergency engine-failure checklist to secure the failed engine.

“She’s still shaking, still making the noise.” Jake peered out the windows, as if he could see the answer out there, but only a mechanic could tell them what was wrong with the engine, and that, only after they’d landed safely.

“We’re flying at altitude on the one engine,” Connor offered. “We’ve done all we can do except pray.”

“And land. We’ve done all we can do except land.”

“We’ll be fine, Jake.”

“Don’t tell me. You’ve flown under worse conditions.” Jake’s statement revealed his increased antagonism toward Connor.

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Connor didn’t think it was the time to share all his other concerns with Jake.

Jake excused himself to use the facilities, leaving Connor with his thoughts. And those thoughts turned straight to what Maya had said.

That she suggested he’d stolen this plane, committing a crime, burned his gut. No way would Troy send him to do something like that. Would he?

Still, the accusation made him a little nervous. In their risky escape, he wasn’t even sure he had all the paperwork full of legal jargon. He’d stuffed it all in his jacket, he thought. He hadn’t exactly used the documentation to climb on board and fly away as he’d expected. But he needed it on hand if asked. Connor didn’t want to be digging through the paperwork when Jake got back from the bathroom. He’d wait until his brother had time to assimilate all that had happened.

Connor needed to buy himself enough time to work all the kinks out of this situation—to come out of it a hero this time. Funny that his attempt to gain some stability in his life, make his family proud of him, had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

So much for good intentions.

Connor squeezed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a millisecond.

That was all the time he had to breathe.

In less than half an hour, the pit of venomous snakes he’d stirred up when he’d repossessed this Learjet might be within striking distance, if Maya’s warning was true. She claimed that a drug lord had taken her, that Connor had taken his plane, and that he—or his men—could be waiting for them upon their arrival.

Was she for real? He wasn’t sure he could trust her, but considering what they’d been through so far, it seemed safer not to doubt her, at least on that point.

And now...if they actually landed it wouldn’t be Miami as they’d planned. Not a big international port-of-entry airport where he could be sure he was dealing with the right people. Since it wasn’t a port of entry, a Customs and Border Protection officer would have to meet them there. A small secluded island for tourists and the wealthy meant you could count on a few corrupt individuals, give or take.

In Connor’s experience, he’d learned that customs at JFK might snarl at you, striking fear in your heart even though you committed no crime, but it always seemed to him as though customs at places where the wealthy landed private jets operated under a different set of rules.

Considering this drug lord’s capabilities, things could be as Maya described. The man might have someone waiting there to retrieve his Learjet and abduct Maya again. Waiting there for Connor and Jake. But how could Connor know for sure? Regardless, he needed to prepare for the worst.

His brother returned to his seat and glowered.

“We have to talk about this,” Jake said.

No kidding. “Look, I’m sorry—”

Jake cut him off. “But before we do, you need to visit with your girlfriend back there. She’s not looking too good and didn’t seem interested in giving me any information.”

“My girlfriend? Hardly.”

“Yeah, well, this whole thing was your idea. Now you’ve rescued a kidnapped woman—indirectly or accidentally, I’m not sure which, and I don’t care. Helping her is a good thing, but I’m not sure how things will go down. From where I’m sitting, this all looks bad. Really bad.”

Connor thought Jake had wanted to talk later, but apparently he couldn’t hold his fury long enough. And Connor couldn’t sink any lower—now he had Jake berating him. But his younger brother had a point. They didn’t know what Maya would say when they landed. She could say they kidnapped her. At the moment, Connor needed to ensure that Jake gained control of his emotions.

“Panicking isn’t going to help us.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? Why do I ever listen to you?” Jake drew in a long breath. “What’s your plan now?”

“Take one thing at a time. First, did you find the GPS?”

Jake reached around his seat and held up a little box with a couple of wires hanging out. “With the way this day has gone, I’m surprised I didn’t need to climb around outside the jet to dismantle it. We’re fortunate it’s one of the mobile kind.”

Connor didn’t want to voice his thoughts that their day wasn’t over yet. “Good. At least we can’t be followed. All we have to do now is make a safe landing. And as for everything else that’s happened, this isn’t anything we can’t handle, but I think we might have bigger worries than how this looks.” Connor shoved from his seat.

“Great.”

“I’m going to see if I can find out more from Maya, and I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Don’t take too long. We’re about to start the landing sequence. I’m not sure how this thing is going to react.”

Jake’s words resonated through Connor—he wasn’t sure what to expect from anything in his life anymore. This simple recovery of a Learjet had certainly not turned out as he’d expected.

The plane continued to shake as he made his way to Maya, ordering himself to get some real answers from her this time. Her honey eyes and dark mane were an intoxicating combination and sent his breath catching in his throat every time he looked at her. It made him way too easily distracted.

What was the matter with him? Okay, he’d admit that he was attracted to her, but that couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t let it. Not just because he wasn’t sure he could trust her, but because he knew—from long, hard experience—that she couldn’t count on him.

If his life had been different, maybe he would want a chance to be friends, maybe even something more. But as things were, he wasn’t the kind of man women wanted for the long haul, and he would do good to remember that. He had the broken engagement to prove it.

* * *

Connor dropped into the seat across from her again, pulling her gaze and pensive thoughts from the window. The constant shaking unnerved her, and she feared they would end up in the azure depths of the Gulf of Mexico.

The handsome pilot’s eyes swam with the blue-green of tropical waters, and though worry tugged at the corner of his lips, his soft smile reassured her. If she were a woman who believed in fairy tales, she could almost believe that he was destined to rescue her. That they were supposed to meet somehow, somewhere, but under different circumstances.

Why couldn’t she have met him in the States, before she’d gone to Belize? Maybe he could have talked her out of going. But then again, once he learned the truth about her identity, he would have left her just as Eric had. Men could not be trusted.

Not her father. Not Eric. Not Connor. He would try to protect his own interests. She just had to convince him that those interests didn’t include the truth about her, at least until she was free of him.

Turbulence jolted the fuselage, adding to her anxiety.

She squeezed the armrests, hating the vibration, the shaking, the turbulence—all of it—but holding on to her composure. She didn’t want him to think her weak. She needed to remain strong in his eyes so she would have more negotiating power, should she need it.

“We haven’t crashed yet. Does that mean we’re going to live?” she asked, and even offered a smile. She needed to get on his good side, to convince him to listen to her plan.

He nodded. “Yes. I think chances are good we’re going to live.”

Maya wasn’t sure if he would tell her otherwise. “To face another day,” she added.

To possibly face Roberto’s men when they landed. Of course, Roberto couldn’t so easily take his plane back upon landing in Miami, but she’d wanted to incite fear in Connor. If he didn’t know who he could trust, he wasn’t as likely to tell anyone about the kidnapped woman he’d found on the plane he’d taken, and Maya’s chances of walking away from this were much greater.

“To face another day.” His smile grew wider, revealing two dimples on his left cheek.

She didn’t trust his smile—he wanted her to let down her guard, using the same tactic she was using on him. She’d started it, after all, but sometimes a smile was all you had.

Though she tried to resist, she liked the curve of his lips. When she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather go through this with even though she knew little about him. But she knew enough—she sensed he was a champion inside.

Someone’s champion, just not hers.

He didn’t seem to realize that about himself, though, despite the confidence he projected.

“We’ll be landing in a few minutes, an emergency landing at the Golden Key airstrip. It’s small, but adequate.”

His words wrapped around her throat and strangled her.

“Maya?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

“What happened to Miami?” She choked on her words.

“We’re making an emergency landing because of engine trouble. What’s wrong with Golden Key?” His soft, caring tone had turned brusque again.

“It’s not far enough away, that’s what’s wrong.”

She rubbed her temples. Maybe she was overreacting and should take heart in the way that she’d been rescued from Roberto’s grasp. Maybe landing in U.S. territory would be her freedom. But no. Her instincts told her otherwise. Roberto’s grasp reached into the Caribbean islands and the Keys—as had her father’s, in years past. She doubted much had changed despite the government’s best efforts. That much she could count on.

When she slid her hands away from her forehead, Connor studied her as if trying to determine if he could trust her.

She needed him to believe her, and the thought that he questioned whether or not he could trust her disappointed her on a far more personal level, surprising her.

“Do you really think this man has that kind of power that he will be waiting for us when we land?” he asked.

She drew in a calming breath. “Do you consider yourself a blessed man, Connor Jacobson?”

Contemplating a response, Connor stared at her, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “Once we land, if you have God’s favor with you, then you might slip through his hands. But if you want to stay that way, if we are even given the chance, then we must go our separate ways.”

A deep frown lined his face. Pain and compassion flickered across his gaze—the man was worried about her, more worried about her than himself. Her earlier misgivings about him—that he would try to protect his own interests at her expense—were wrong.

Such a small thing...Maya swallowed against the tightness in her throat...but that small thing had an enormous impact, touching a forgotten place in her heart that had long grown cold. The kindness in his eyes warmed her heart, overwhelming her, and giving her the sudden, crazy desire for him to wrap her in his arms, tell her it would be all right. She wished he would at least move into the seat next to hers—she needed to feel his nearness. Maybe she could draw strength from that.

But he remained in the seat across from her, watching her, the concern in his eyes disorienting her, confusing what needed to be a single-minded focus. Had it really been so long since anyone cared about her that a stranger could do this to her?

“I want to help you,” he said.

What? No...

While she’d wanted him to be sympathetic to her plight as a victim rather than believing she was involved in the drug world, she didn’t want to put him in any more danger.

Emotions warred on the inside while her father’s drug wars battled on the outside.

Then there was the way this pilot affected her as if she was piloting an airplane over the Bermuda Triangle and into the electromagnetic vortex—her instrument panel spun out of control.

She glanced down at her hands still gripping the armrests, her nerves on edge enough without the plane’s vibrating assault. Connor continued to watch her, waiting for her response—he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know the full extent of the danger they were in. She couldn’t allow him to get more entangled in her problems.

She shook her head, hating the burning at the backs of her eyes. No. She wouldn’t cry. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” Connor blew out an exasperated breath. “We’ve run out of time. Tell me what I need to know to do the right thing.”

“Haven’t I already told you enough? The man who wants me will not stop until he has me. Nothing and no one will stand in his way. You can’t help me, so let me go away quietly. I need to disappear. Don’t make any waves on my account. Don’t tell anyone I was kidnapped. Leave the jet and the island. Get as far away as you can.”

She hated watching the deep crease that appeared between his brows, but knew she’d hit her mark.

“Connor, some help up here, please!”

“We’re not done with this discussion.” His tone resonated with the pressure of the situation, the burdens he carried.

The pilot left her to assist his brother in landing Roberto Hernandez’s Learjet that held Roberto’s prize—the abducted daughter of his Colombian drug-lord enemy.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, though she wasn’t convinced a safe landing would do anything but offer her back into the hands of her abductor.

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