Jetway

by Becca Jameson

  Heather flinched. His brother? Jesus. Fuck. Suddenly, Heather knew exactly who this man’s brother was. So did Shayla, considering how hard she squeezed Heather’s hand.

  The man confirmed his identity seconds later. “Hawke Richman. Did either of you know him?”

  Neither of them moved a muscle.

  Heather started shaking, unable to stop herself. This could not be happening.

  Shayla squeezed Heather’s hand harder. “Was he that pilot who committed suicide a while back?” Quick thinking on her part considering she was there when Hawke shot himself.

  “Ha. Suicide. More like pushed over the edge by this motherfucking airline all because he laid a few stewardesses.”

  Heather flinched at the use of that outdated term yet again, especially the way he emphasized it.

  “Since when is it a crime to fuck a pretty woman?”

  If he wanted a list of crimes Hawke had committed, Heather would be happy to oblige, but she pursed her lips instead, praying either Neil or Jake was listening to this conversation.

  “This airline owes me.” He swung around to face the pilot again. “Di’you get ahold of someone to get this fucking luggage offloaded?”

  “Yes. They are on their way. Can you tell us what you want?”

  “When I’m good and ready.” He leaned back, unzipped the computer bag, and pulled out a laptop.

  Heather was somewhat relieved to see the bag actually held a laptop and not a bomb. Though with her luck, that stupid computer might also be a bomb.

  Neil sat at his desk staring at his phone, brows drawn together, confused. The line was open. He could hear movement, but Heather wasn’t responding to him. Did they have a bad connection? She’d called him, but it seemed she couldn’t hear him. “Heather?” he tried again.

  He was about to hang up and call her back when he heard a man say, “Hawke Richman. Did either of you know him?”

  He heard Shayla’s voice next, acting like she’d maybe heard of the guy. Heard of the guy? She’d been held hostage by him for many terrifying hours before Tank and Hatch rescued her. Hawke Richman had been an abusive piece of shit who also assaulted Heather.

  The hairs stood up on the back of Neil’s neck as he jumped to his feet.

  “Hornet,” Tank shouted from the hallway two seconds before he rushed to Neil’s office and stopped with his hands on the doorframe. He was holding up his phone and his laptop bag was in his free hand.

  Neil nodded, pointing at his. “Yeah. I’m listening too.” He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go.”

  Tank barked out information to the rest of the guys in the office as the two of them ran for the exit. “Shooter, Kraft, Hatch… Shit going down at the airport. Heading there now.”

  “What can we do from here?” Kraft asked.

  Tank paused in the doorway. “I’ve been trying to track down the location of the hacker for months. I’ve narrowed it down to a few blocks, but haven’t managed to get closer. If that fucker is currently online messing with the Open Skies system, maybe you can get a better lead. File’s on my desk. Find out if Hawke Richman has a brother and who the fuck he is and where he lives.”

  “On it,” Kraft said.

  Neil rushed out the door, rounded the hood of his SUV, and was behind the wheel, engine started, pulling out of the parking lot almost before Tank had his door closed. They set both phones on the dash, but in a moment the volume increased as Neil’s switched to the car’s internal Bluetooth system.

  Tank muted his but didn’t disconnect. Good idea. Just in case they lost Neil’s.

  “What the fuck,” Tank muttered. “This asshole is Hawke’s brother? Is he delusional?”

  “It would seem that way. You think he’s the guy who’s been wreaking all the havoc at the airline lately?”

  Tank ran a hand over his head, his other hand going to the dashboard to brace himself as Neil took a corner too fast. Not fast enough in his opinion.

  The voice he assumed was Hawke’s brother came through again. “Did either of you ladies ever meet my brother?”

  Heather responded, which made Neil’s heart pound. “No, but I’ve seen pictures. Are you two twins?”

  “No. We’re two years apart, but we used to get that a lot,” he joked.

  What the absolute fuck?

  “What’s the computer for?” Heather asked.

  Neil glanced at Tank, brows furrowed.

  “I knew it,” Tank muttered.

  “Somebody’s got to teach this airline a lesson,” the guy said.

  Neil gripped the steering wheel as he drove faster. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to waste time getting pulled over and dealing with the cops. If this asshole wanted to teach the airline a lesson, fine, but if he included Heather in his lesson, Neil would kill the guy with his bare hands. He might anyway.

  “What’s our plan?” Neil asked as he pulled into the airport.

  “Pull up to passenger drop off. We’ll leave the car. If we can get the attention of a cop and give him a brief explanation, great. If not, we’ll deal with the tow company later.”

  Neil nodded. “Then we’re going to buy two tickets to anywhere and head for the gate where Shayla and Heather are supposed to be departing.”

  “Exactly.”

  Neil spun around several people, slowing down only enough to ensure no one got hurt. He parked in the first no-parking zone he could find and jumped out, grabbing his phone.

  Luckily, there was a cop nearby. Neil jogged toward him and tossed him the keys as Tank spoke. “Our wives are two of the hostages on the runway. Do what you need to do with the car.”

  The officer nodded and pointed at the door, pocketing the keys. “Go. It’ll be here when you get back.”

  Didn’t matter that neither of them was technically married. The point was made and the officer seemed to be at least aware of the hostage situation.

  “Can you work that magic to get us to the runway without buying tickets?” Neil half-joked.

  “Doubt it. Faster to buy one.” He jogged toward a self-serve kiosk.

  Neil did the same at another. Didn’t even matter if they got tickets to the same place. Didn’t matter what the destination was. Neil’s fingers were unsteady as he did a quick search and bought a ticket.

  Neil had fought in more combat situations than he cared to recall, but he was far more nervous about this confrontation they were about to have on US soil.

  They made it through security in record time, did a quick scan to figure out which gate Heather and Shayla were scheduled to depart from, and took off running. Neil held his cell phone to his ear again, trying to pick up the conversation. It was muffled.

  “There,” Tank called out, pointing at a plane. “That’s it.” He rushed toward the door to the jetway.

  “Sir? What are you doing? You can’t go through there.” A female employee approached them as Tank pulled his computer out and flipped it open.

  Neil turned to the woman. “Our women are on that plane.”

  The woman came up short, swallowing. “Shayla and Heather?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “You guys are former military,” she stated.

  Neil was grateful Heather was on a first-name basis with this airline employee and also close enough for the woman to know who she was dating.

  She handed Neil a piece of paper. “This is the code for the door, but it’s not working. As usual.”

  Tank had squatted down and was clicking keys as fast as he could, his hands flying over the laptop propped on his knee. He glanced at the woman. “Won’t need it.” He stuck a USB cord into the laptop.

  Neil grabbed the other end and stuck it next to the panel on the door, knowing it was going to override the system. Any moment now the door would pop open.

  He held his breath until he finally heard the blessed sound of the lock disengaging. Neil yanked it open.

  “Oh God,” the woman said. “Be careful.”

  Tank left his computer in the terminal
as they eased into the jetway.

  Neil held the door, letting it slip closed as quietly as possible. He couldn’t hear anything, so it was unlikely anyone on the plane could hear them approaching either.

  His phone buzzed silently with an incoming text at the same time as Tank’s. Neil glanced down to see it was from Kraft.

  Broden Richman. Lives in the zone Tank marked. Current pinging is coming from that plane you’re about to enter. Be careful.

  At least they knew who they were dealing with even if they didn’t know why. Neil was also grateful that all the guys in the office could track each other.

  He held the phone to his ear again, trying to glean anything from Heather while Tank shot off a response to Kraft.

  It took a few seconds, but then he heard Heather’s voice. “Are you going to tell us what the computer’s for?”

  Suddenly, all the lights went off in the jetway. In fact, Neil sensed it was more than that. He heard the distinct hum of power shutting down all around him. There was no way to hear anything inside the terminal now, but voices down below them were loud enough. After all, the jetway wasn’t airtight.

  “What’s going on?” a man shouted.

  “Power’s off. All over the airport,” someone responded.

  “Fuck. Why the hell did I agree to work Gerald’s shift today?”

  Neil nodded at Tank and the two of them started moving toward the plane.

  His phone buzzed again. Another message from Kraft.

  I think Broden entered that particular airplane because of its proximity to the main server in the airport. It’s under the terminal where you’re standing. He probably needed to get close to it to hack in easier and take over the airport. The ensuing bedlam would make it easier for him to take off.

  “Jesus,” Tank muttered as he read the same text. “What’s his goal?” he asked no one.

  Neil was wondering the same thing. Did the guy just want to fuck with the airline in retaliation for his brother’s death?

  As they got closer to the bend in the jetway, Neil could hear Broden directly, so he pocketed the phone. Luckily, the passenger door was still open. Apparently, Broden hadn’t expected any guests to be entering from the jetway since he’d blocked the terminal door electronically.

  “Don’t worry, girls. You can have a seat if you’d like. I’m not going to hurt you. Who would serve me drinks on the flight if I killed the stewardesses?” He cackled, his voice grating on Neil’s nerves. His use of the words “girls” and “stewardess” told Neil this asshole was as misogynistic as his brother had been.

  He couldn’t imagine what Heather was feeling.

  “Text Heather,” Tank suggested in a whisper. “Just in case one of them can check their phone.”

  Neil pulled his phone back out and shot off a text.

  I’m close. Stay calm.

  He didn’t want to give away more than that in case the guy read her texts.

  Chapter 19

  Heather felt her phone buzz in her pocket and prayed the text wouldn’t be a telemarketer or something. She had no way of knowing if Neil was even connected to the call she’d made. It was possible no one at Westside Programmers knew this situation was going down.

  Desperately wanting to see the text, she took Hawke’s brother up on his offer and slid into one of the passenger seats. She was in the third row. Hopefully, she could glance at the text without this insane man noticing.

  Shayla was doing the same thing across the aisle. She had already palmed her phone, which gave Heather hope. If they’d both received a text, chances were higher that the men were aware of their problem.

  Heather slid her phone out, palming it in front of her. Waiting. Waiting. The moment Richman ducked his head to type quickly again, she glanced down.

  Thank you, God.

  She wondered what he’d meant by “close.” It was hard to calm herself, but she did feel a growing sense that she might get out of this alive at least.

  Shalya must have read a similar message because she shot Heather a grin before turning her focus to Richman. “Would you like us to get you a drink?”

  Richman lifted his gaze and smirked. “Well, aren’t you the perfect little stewardess? But no. Perhaps after we take off.”

  Heather cringed. The last thing she wanted was for this plane to ever take off.

  The pilot stood in the door to the cockpit still, hands on the doorframe. Heather thought maybe he was bracing himself until she realized he was blocking his partner who was hopefully communicating with someone.

  Where the hell was Neil? And was Jake with him?

  Richman lifted his gaze again. “Look out the window, girls. Tell me if a team is unloading the luggage.”

  Heather stood and leaned over to see out the window. Indeed there were several men slowly removing luggage from down below. But that wasn’t all she saw. One of the men was Jason, Libby’s husband. He climbed into the bowels of the plane and never returned. Either he was pretending to be one of the crew or he’d talked them into helping him get on board.

  If they took off with him down below, he would never survive. Heather prayed the men had a plan and they were coming from every possible angle.

  “Well?” Richman asked.

  “Yes. They’re unloading everything.”

  “Good.” He didn’t lift his gaze, but he did grin and start laughing again. “That’ll show them.”

  Show who what? Heather winced as she sat again.

  “Excellent.” Richman got more animated, and he stood to set the laptop on one of the drink carts. He turned toward the pilot next. “Time to start preflight, boys.”

  The pilot frowned. “You haven’t told us where you want to go.”

  “Doesn’t keep you from taking off though, does it?” He lifted his gun and aimed it at the pilot.

  The pilot held up both hands. “You’re not going to get very far if you shoot me.”

  “Really? Hmmm. Unless I happen to be a pilot myself.”

  The pilot drew in a slow breath, not moving. “I’ll start the engines,” he said, backing into the cockpit.

  “Good plan.” Richman smirked again as he turned and headed down the aisle.

  Heather held her breath, scared out of her mind. This guy didn’t need any of them. He passed Heather and Shayla and then leaned over to see out the window on the side of the terminal. “God, I love technology. So hard to run an airport with no electricity.”

  Heather jerked her gaze that direction. She hadn’t noticed the electrical outage from where she sat.

  Suddenly, an explosion under Heather’s feet made her jump to standing. She’d seen Jason enter. She had to pray he was responsible for the explosion and not a victim of it.

  “What the fuck?” Richman stomped back to the front of the plane. “What the absolute fuck,” he shouted a second time. He bent down, reached for the carpet that covered the hatch leading to the baggage compartment, and yanked the panel open.

  Heather gasped the moment she saw Neil and Jake enter the plane from the jetway. How the hell they’d gotten there, she didn’t know, but Jake was on top of Richman in the blink of an eye while Neil snatched the man’s handgun and pointed it at him.

  Richman proved stronger than he looked. He bucked Jake off him while he reached for another weapon.

  Neil shot at Richman’s arm, hitting the guy in the wrist.

  “Fuck,” Richman shouted as he stumbled backward toward Shayla and Heather.

  Heather screamed when Richman wrapped his bad arm around her, holding her against his chest. He pulled a second gun from his waistband with his good hand and held it to her head. “Don’t know who you two are or how the hell you got into the jetway, but get off the fucking plane right now, assholes. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  Heather couldn’t breathe as he continued to back up, holding her tight, the barrel of his gun cold against her temple. She’d been through a lot in her stupid, miserable life, but she could honestly say this was
the first time anyone had held a gun to her head.

  She forced herself to remain calm. Crying or fighting him would only make things worse. She did hold on to his arm though, trying to ensure she could continue to breathe.

  Neil kept his gun trained on Richman. Richman held his steady against Heather’s head.

  A second explosion from down below vibrated the entire plane. Heather took advantage of the distraction to jab Richman in the ribs with her elbow. She might die today, but she would go down fighting.

  He lost his grip on her. Before she could get away, he swung around and held his gun up to her face.

  Heather heard a shot a second before it registered that Richman hadn’t been the one to fire the weapon. She hadn’t been the one who’d been shot. Richman had. Apparently in the back.

  He gasped, his eyes going wide, but he still managed to reach out and backhand Heather so hard it threw her backward. She stuck out her arms, trying to brace herself, but she couldn’t keep from going down.

  The last thing she remembered was a sharp pain in the back of her head as she struck the floor.

  Neil paced back and forth in the hospital room while the doctors and nurses bustled around Heather’s limp body. He knew she was alive. He’d never left her side. The moment she hit the floor in the aisle of the plane, he leaped over Broden’s dead body to get to her.

  It took him a second to realize she’d been knocked unconscious. The question was why the hell was she still unconscious now? It had been an hour since she struck her head. Minutes were ticking by. He didn’t like it.

  With very little regard for the people bustling around her, he came to the top corner of the bed and reached over to grasp her biceps. He needed to touch her. Remind himself she was warm and alive.

  Suddenly, she winced, turning her head to the side and moaning.

  Neil had never heard a better sound in his life.

  “There she is,” a nurse declared.